The Faceless Twins
by Sogo
Summary: What happens after Unwound Future? When dead bodies begin to turn up, a pattern emerges... And Layton is on the run from the law. Layton/Claire, Luke/Flora, Clive/Emmy
1. Chapter 1

**A.N. This won't make a whole lot of sense at first, but it will all come together, I promise! Please stick with it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Layton characters… only Jon, Mysti, Rhonda, Celia, Elizabeth… Not hard to figure out.**

Prologue:

The sky was gray. It looked like rain.

Celia, a young woman with red-brown hair and dark brown eyes, stood at a recently placed gravestone.

Elizabeth, her sister, rested a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Celia."

Celia jerked away from her comfort. "Don't. I don't want to hear it."

"Celia…"

"Don't!"

Elizabeth looked at her sister with worried green eyes. "I don't know what else to say."

Tears began to stream down Celia's face. "He was going to be important. He had such a future ahead of him, I know it! And now…"

Elizabeth wrapped her arm around Celia, not fully understanding the truth of her sister's rambling. "It will all be okay. I promise."

Celia looked up at her with questioning eyes. "Do you really believe that?"

There was a moment of silence before Elizabeth answered.

"Yes."

Celia turned back to the grave. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Elizabeth helped her start back to their car as the sky, as if echoing Celia's feelings, let the first drops of rain fall. They traced along the words on the new headstone, the letters that spelled out the name of Celia's son. The name Hershel Layton.

Celia sat in the doctor's office. She was returning for a check up to be sure she was healing correctly after the c-section the doctors had given her.

They were giving her an MRI.

Celia, claustrophobic, was being given a sedative to keep her calm in the sleek tube.

She lay on a bed, breathing slowly and deeply, trying to conquer her fear and prepare for the experience to come.

But instead of slowing, she felt her heartbeat speed up.

Almost unconsciously, she began to fidget. The sedative wouldn't take much longer, would it?

Suddenly, her mind was crystal clear.

She sat up and ran her finger along the clear bag, reading the type of sedative they were giving her.

_Adrenaline._

Celia ripped the tube out of her arm. Her heart was beating way too fast as she struggled to sit up.

"Doctor!" she shouted. "Doctor—."

Then she fell to the ground as her heart stopped. She was dead.

"Mysti! Come on!"

The young girl ran down the stairs singing, "School for the first time…"

Her father, James, smiled at her. "Get your coat on, Honey."

"Dad, dad, where's my lunch?"

"It's on the kitchen table, Jon," he answered his son. "Go get it quickly."

Mysti was already dressed. "Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

James smiled as Jon ran back into the room clutching his lunch. "Okay. Let's go."

Next door, Elizabeth shooed her husband, William, and their son out the door. "Go! You'll be late!"

William's car pulled out just in front of James's, and they made their way to school.

In the other car, Mysti continued to sing her song, and Jon, bored, began to harmonize. James frowned at them in the rear-view mirror. It wasn't typical kindergarten behavior… Would someone realize the truth?

Mysti stopped singing, and screamed "BREAK!"

James slammed on the brake pedal, but wasn't quite fast enough to stop. The train hit them at top speed. James was killed instantly.

Mysti was flung into Jon, but apart from several bruises, they were okay.

Still, it hurt a lot, and the pain was hard to think through. Why were there people there taking her and Jon from the car? Why were they leaving their father?

"Dad?" she whispered.

There was a voice: her Uncle William's. "Hey! What are you doing?"

And then an unfamiliar voice. "Kill him."

Mysti heard the gunshot and started screaming.

"Shut her up!" ordered the same voice.

Something hit her over the head, and it all went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One: Haunting Killings

Professor Hershel Layton held up a clay pot that looked rather beat up. "This pot is from central Mesopotamia. There are, as you can see, several distinguishing characteristics—."

There was a knock at the door.

The professor set down the pot and went to open the door. "What is it now—Inspector Chelmey?"

The Scotland Yard Inspector looked embarrassed to be there. "Hello, Layton."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, I just dropped by for the pleasure of your company."

The professor grimaced and turned back to his class. "Class dismissed. We'll resume this discussion next time."

There were several grumbles as the class cleared from the room.

Rosetta, one of the students, stayed behind a moment longer.

"Professor? Could I come in sometime and have you better explain the stone relics of Cornwall to me? I'm afraid they still confuse me."

"Yes, I guessed from the quality of your report on them. I'm booked for a while, but we could meet in a few days, say, next week before class."

Rosetta smiled. "That'd be great! Thanks, Mr. L!"

The professor frowned thoughtfully as she ran out of the room.

"Is that the one Luke was terrified of?" Chelmey asked conversationally.

"I wasn't aware you knew of that, Inspector, but yes." The professor walked to his desk and began searching for his calendar. "My calendar must be in my office. Can we continue this conversation there?"

"Certainly." The professor led the inspector to the third floor, to the door with the top hat on it.

"Nice décor," Chelmey snorted as Professor Layton unlocked the door and showed him in. Chelmey whistled at the huge mess. "You need to re-hire your old house keeper. I can't believe Luke could keep it cleaner than you. How do you live at home?"

"Oh, Flora's very good at that stuff. Any housekeeping thing as long as you keep her away from the kitchen," the professor explained, digging through one of his over-flowing drawers. "Funny, I could have sworn my calendar was in here…"

"You know, these things work better when they're out," Chelmey said as he located the calendar and handed it to the professor. "You're a terrible packrat."

"Oh, I know," the professor replied cheerfully, marking Rosetta's help on the correct date. "I don't know how I ever found anything."

"Luke. What's-her-name. And that housekeeper whose name I can't recall."

"Emmy Altava and Rosa Grimes?"

"Yeah, them."

"Probably," the professor agreed. "Now, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Last night, there was a murder."

"Really? Who was killed?"

"And that," the inspector admitted, "is the problem."

"What do you know?"

"We know she's female, very light skinned, light brown hair, green-grey eyes… ring any bells?"

"No one alive," the professor said seriously.

"Okay. She's between the ages of thirty and thirty-five, about five-foot-seven…"

"I still don't know why you insist on doing that," the professor muttered.

"What?" the inspector asked innocently.

"Never mind."

"We have her finger prints," the inspector told him. "And about an hour ago we found a match. By accident, too. They compared the prints to someone's whose name ended up in the pile by mistake. And the prints matched up perfectly."

The professor took a deep breath. "Who?"

"The prints matched up perfectly with Claire Marelli's. I wouldn't have believed it if not for one thing: I saw the body. It looks like her. It's impossible, but it's true. The woman who was killed was already dead and buried."

The professor was shaking slightly. "Impossible. What happened?"

"We got a phone call about mid-afternoon. A female voice just gave us an address. We didn't check it out until later that night. We found the body in the middle of the apartment, stabbed sixteen times in the back with a knife. We couldn't find the murder weapon."

"Why do you want my help? I'm not good with murders."

"How about Andrew Schrader?"

"Not technically a murder."

"That guy you were telling me about in a mysterious place."

"Not technically a murder either."

Chelmey threw up his hands in exhasperation. "Look. Just see what you can find. You put things together faster than anyone. And a dead girl's just been murdered."

The professor sighed, already knowing how he would have to answer. "If it were anyone else…"

"Thanks. We can take my car to the crime scene."

"So?"

The professor was visably shaking as he looked at the body. "It's her."

"And?"

"And I don't know!" he snapped. Then he took a deep breath to get himself under control. Not again, not again, not again…

"I don't think I've ever seen you like this," the inspector commented. "Do you have any theories?"

"Several, but my most likely one is completely ridiculous."

"And your least likely one?"

A hint of a smile twitched at the corners of the professor's lips. "That one includes a group of conspirisists working against our government, a group of terrorist hamsters, and—."

"Back to the most likely one."

"That one involves clones. Maybe even a recreation of the Detragen."

"The what?"

"Detragen. Did you ever read the reports filled by Clamp Growski?"

Inspector Chelmey laughed. "We call him Crazy Clamp. Most of the force reads his reports when they want a laugh. Did you know he once reported on a self built helicopter—."

"Yes, that was the idea. It didn't hover too well."

"And a device that could record someone's memories and put them in another person? It convieniatly blew up at the end, though."

Now the professor was smiling. "Much like future London, eh, Crazy Chelmey?"

Chelmey sobered up. "That was true?"

"Pretty much. I take he left out the part where he lost his boxers?"

"He did what!"

"Oh, don't worry, he found them…"

"This doesn't make sense!" the professor shouted, slamming his fist on a wooden table next to a couch.

To the inspector's surprise, the next thing he did was sink onto that couch, silent tears running down his cheeks.

"It doesn't make sense…" he whispered again. "It's like she's being killed over, and over, and over. She shouldn't have to go through it. My fault, my fault, my fault…"

The body in front of them had been shot three times in the back. Both her face and her fingerprints were identical to Claire Marelli's, and those of the first body's.

The inspector realized that the reason the professor had been joking yesterday was because he had been trying to cover up how shaken he had been. Today, however, it was worse. He couldn't just cover it up.

"How is it your fault?" the inspector asked.

"Do you know what happened to my family?"

"Nooo…"

"They all died. All of them."

The inspector wasn't sure how this pertained to the issue at hand. "What do you mean?"

He looked up. "My aunt died from an overdose in a hospital. My uncle and father both died in a train and car collision. My mother passed away from natural causes—she was the only one in the family. My two cousins died in the same train and car crash… It's like everyone I've ever cared about has died. And now it's happening to Claire again. And again. And again! Everyone dies!"

They stayed there for several moments in silence. The inspector wasn't sure what to say.

"Okay, can you tell us exactly what happened?"

Inspector Chelmey was sitting across from a woman with short, dark hair.

"Sure. Last night, this woman showed up asking about the room I was renting out. She said she just needed a place for a few days, paid in advance— No," she added as the professor, standing behind the inspector, opened his mouth. "I've already deposited the money. I don't have it any more."

The professor closed his mouth.

"Right, so she gave her name as Celeste, and went into the room. I left for the bank. When I came back, she was still here, nothing was missing, all of that. I went to bed about ten o' clock. I'm a light sleeper though, and I heard something. It was about three in the morning, and I went to check on Celeste. There was this guy standing over her holding a stick—I think it was a karate bo staff, five feet long, maybe? I only know this because my sister learned karate. Anyways, he was hitting her. I shouted something brilliant, I think it was 'hey', and he turned on me. Well, I did my own share of self defense when I was a kid, and I'm actually a decent wrestler, so I jumped at him."

Both of the men in front of her raised an eyebrow.

"Well, actually, I more of dove at him. I knocked him down, he almost got me with the staff, and I grabbed it and twisted it out of his hands. He got up and ran. I would have chased after him, but Celeste was struggling to breathe, so I called an ambulance."

The inspector got more details on the man as the professor wandered aimlessly into the kitchen. Something about this woman was tugging at his memory. Who was she? He hadn't caught her name.

There was a little note on the fridge.

Live show 10 on Friday.

There was nothing odd about the note in itself. But the handwriting… he had seen it before.

He pulled the note from the fridge and tucked it in his pocket. He could look at that later.

"Layton!" The inspector's brisk voice echoed from the other room. "Come on, I want to get a look at the woman at the hospital!"

The dark haired woman walked into the kitchen. "Oh, you're Professor Layton? My sister mentioned you."

He glanced at the woman. "Who?"

She laughed. "Can't you see the family resemblance? Everyone says we look a lot alike. I'm Rhonda Altava."

"Emmy's sister!" he realized. "I didn't know she had one!"

"Oh, we don't talk about the other much. But she calls into my radio show every week to complain about the grammatical errors I've made. I'd stop taking the calls, but the audience loves it. You should listen to it sometime. It's called 'I didn't see it coming', and is on every week day at ten, with a special live show Friday."

"I'll check it out sometime," the professor promised, inching towards the door. He really wanted to go see this 'Celeste'.

Rhonda noticed this. "Tell Celeste her room's still open, if she wants it."

"I will."

But even as he left with the inspector, his hand itched to take the note out. He knew, even without comparing them, that the handwriting was identical to that of the person who wrote him threatening letters—they still came from time to time.

But Emmy's sister writing him threatening letters? It didn't make any sense?

She wouldn't do it. Why would she?

The thought relaxed him. She had no reason. It couldn't be her. Why?

Why?

Rhonda Altava sighed with relief as she watched the pair walk away. They didn't suspect anything, did they?

No, of course not.

The sound of a refridgerator closing made her jump.

She stormed into the kitchen. "Really?"

There was a woman sitting perched on a counter, delicately sipping a glass of juice. "Well, I never get anything but bread, water, and vitamin suppliments down there. And my blood sugar's low."

"Do you ever wonder if they keep you that way for a reason?" Rhonda snapped, though she had located another glass and was now pouring herself juice.

"Oh, they do," the woman assured her seriously. "Maybe if I wasn't such an escape risk. Which reminds me. I think it's time to move."

Rhonda was silent for a long moment. "Are you certain?"

"Am I ever certain? But the attack has occurred… I think it's safe to move. Trust me, I have been planning this for a long time."

"I know. It's just—."

"Rhonda, if you're getting cold feet, it's okay to back out. I understand. We wouldn't hold it against you."

"No, it's just the fact that it's finally happening. I know this needs to be done, and I'm happy to do it. Now, will you please get out of my house before I have to explain another unconscious body to the police?"

The woman laughed and set down her empty cup. "Tonight, then." She jumped gracefully down from the counter and walked to the door.

"Where are you going?" Rhonda called.

"Oh, I'm going to Scotland Yard. I think the police will pay a little more attention when they find me in the archives."

Rhonda smirked. "I think they're paying attention. Hershel Layton just left."

"I could have talked to him? I didn't realize he was here… Crud. Oh well, I'll talk to you tonight."

"Bye," Rhonda answered, turning away as the woman left.

What would it be like when it was over? she wondered. Would it be boring? Uninteresting? It would be much safer, for one. And the insanity, ten years in the making, would end.

Of course, she had no way of knowing her count was off.

Professor Layton sat at his desk, comparing the two writing samples. The first was the note he had pulled from Rhonda's fridge. The second, a letter he had saved, along with the others like it.

Dear Professor Hershel Layton

It has come to our attention that you have been continuing your research.

Please, do remember the seventeenth. We would hate to have a repeat.

The threatening letters sent to him over the years… had they been written by Emmy's sister? It was ridiculous to think of, and yet…

"Professor?"

He spun around, startled out of such dark thoughts. His adopted daughter, Flora, stood in the doorway.

She had noticed he was holding a letter. "Are you working on a new investigation?"

"Sort of," he answered honestly, tucking the letter away. "But that's from an old one. There are several murders taking place that I'm looking into."

The last woman had gotten to the hospital in time, but was in a coma. They would be getting no information from her in the immediate future.

"Are you planning to leave me alone, again?"

The question caught him by surprise. "No, of course not."

She smiled. "Okay, then. I need you to come talk to my teacher tomorrow."

He glanced at her, caught by surprise again. "Why?"

"I… I may have gotten in trouble for spreading malicious rumors. Of course, they're not really rumors. I'm just telling the truth."

"Malicious rumors?" This was surprising. He hadn't thought Flora would—.

"About our prime minister."

That was not what he'd hoped to hear.

"You've been telling your friends at school about things the prime minister did?"

Flora nodded.

He sighed. "Flora, you can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because then Bill Hawks finds out, and… things happen to the people who speak about those deeds. I… I just don't want you to get hurt."

She blinked. "I didn't realize… Either way, you still should go talk to my teacher. She gave me an F on the paper I wrote about what I did over the summer."

The professor frowned. "It's spring."

"Yes, that's what I said when she gave the assignment. I pointed out that there was only a month of school left. She ignored me. I wonder if she ever utilizes logic at all. We don't get along very well, I'm afraid to say."

"I'm not surprised. Well, if she wants me to come in, I'll go in. Just don't tell your friends anything else about Bill Hawks."

"I won't," she promised. "I'm sorry."

He smiled. "It's really okay."

"I made dinner. Do you want to come eat now?"

"Oh…" Flora's horrible cooking had always been a sensitive subject. "I actually ate while I was out."

She pouted briefly before leaving.

The professor pulled the letter back out. That handwriting… it had to be a coincidence. It had to be.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Two:

"Life sucks."

Clive looked up in surprise. It was the first words he had heard any of the other occupants of the room say. There were three he could see. One was lying on the floor, his face obscured in shadows. Clive didn't know him. The second was his ex-partner, Dimitri Allen, who was leaning unhappily against a wall, refusing to say anything. The third was the speaker, a woman with dark red hair and violet eyes that scared him.

"Yeah." His voice was more of a croak than an actual voice. He hadn't spoken for a long time. He threaded his fingers through the bars of his cell, looking across to the woman's cell. It felt good to talk.

He and Dimitri had been moved to this prison a few hours ago. He had just woken up there, with no idea of where "there" happened to be.

"Where are we?" he asked, cleared his throat, and then repeated. "Where are we?"

"I don't know." Her violet eyes seemed to dance with laughter. "The woman who lives over there called it 'hell'."

Clive nodded. "That seems pretty accurate."

He was starving! Would they get something to eat?

He glanced over to the empty cell the woman had gestured to. There were six of them in the room, but two were unused.

"Where is this woman?"

The red head shrugged. "She's probably escaping again."

"Again?"

"Oh, she breaks out all the time, and they still haven't figured out how she does it. She always comes back, though."

Clive bit his lip, thinking carefully. Who was this woman? He hoped he'd get to meet her soon. "What's your name?"

"Oh, call me Mysti. That's short for Mystery. I don't know my last name. Over there is my brother, Jon, which is short for—."

"Jonathan," Clive finished, trying once again to see Jon's face. He still couldn't see it.

Mystery had realized what he was trying to do. "Oh, don't bother. We've been down here so long, we know every bit of shadow in these cells. When we were younger, he could make himself almost disappear in the shadows in that corner."

"How long have you been down here?"

"I'd say about… what day is it?"

Clive shrugged. He honestly had no clue what the date was.

"Well, Jon and I have been down here since we were five, and now we're like… thirty something? Thirty-one, thirty-two? So maybe twenty-six, twenty-seven years?"

"Oh."

That was a long time to be in prison. "Wait, why did you end up here when you were five?"

She was suddenly quiet. "There was a crash, and I got hit with something. Jon and I have been here ever since."

This wasn't a normal prison, was it? This was much more likely a place where people went to 'disappear'.

The mysterious person was right. Bill Hawks really was going to make life a living hell. Clive briefly wondered if this person was just a delusion. How could anyone break out of a place like this?

The door to the room opened, startling him out of the dark thoughts.

"Which one?" a brisk voice demanded.

"That one. The one in the shadows."

Clive sat straight up as someone walked to Jon's cage and opened it.

"What do you want?"

This voice, Dimitri's, gave Clive some pleasure in hearing. At least he still could talk.

The man yanked Jon up by the elbow, and pulled him out of the room.

"Leave him alone!" Mysti shouted, shaking the bars of her cell. "Put him back! Leave him alone! He didn't do anything!"

The door slammed shut, and Mysti glared at Clive, probably wondering why he hadn't said anything in Jon's defense. But he didn't notice, still staring, frozen, at the place where Jon had last been, where he had seen his face.

"Jon…" he whispered, wondering if Dimitri had seen the same thing. "Jon looks just like Professor Layton."

"Is that the same Professor Layton that she was talking about?"

Clive glanced up in surprise. "Who?"

"The woman I was telling you about."

Clive blinked. Who was this woman? "Well, there aren't exactly a huge amount of Professor Laytons out there…"

Mysti smiled a sorrowful smile. "Actually, she told me all about him. I think she was in love. And she was always talking about two things. She was talking about an escape, how she was going to help us all escape, but she was waiting. That annoys me. Why wait?"

"Why indeed," Dimitri murmured. "Who in their right mind would wait?"

"Exactly! She had so much time down here… She even wrote a song—."

Dimitri leaned forward, paying attention now. "A song, you say? This song, was it about the day she was waiting for?"

"Yes."

"She wrote _The Warning_, didn't she?"

Mystery nodded.

Clive frowned. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it. "What's that?"

"I'd actually been doing some research on it," Dimitri told him. "It's supposedly this old song that almost everyone knows, like Ring-Around-the-Rosy, or Hot-Crossed-Buns. The funny thing is, no one knows where it came from, or where it originated, and everyone I asked learned it recently. I was hypothesizing that it was recently written, and spread around London quickly, for some reason."

"I don't know it."

Mystery smiled. "Allow me. I've heard it so many times… Well, it's hard to forget it." She took a deep breath, opened her mouth and began to sing.

He voice was clear and beautiful, Clive realized. And the song… the song… was creepy. It sent a shiver down his spine. The melody was haunting, and he paid close attention to the words.

_"There shall be a time to come that shall destroy all hope_

_ Where it seems all are helpless and unable to cope_

_ But beware, now beware, there is one last surprise_

_ When danger rises from below, when the thought dead one cries_

_ Run, London, flee, if you all value your lives!_

_ "Beware, now, beware, yet still lives the true monster_

_ 'Mongst heroes, 'mongst old friends, 'mongst all three imposters_

_ Beware of the killer, as well as surprise,_

_ Perhaps some amongst you all shall yet survive._

_ "One short week after the thought darkest day_

_ Five people go missing, they're all being played._

_ Run as night approaches, as surfacing nears,_

_ The danger is rising from far beneath here._

_ "None shall be spared from the broken's revenge_

_ Shan't get very far before taken by friends_

_ As night falls, it dies, danger's over, it's done_

_ Both living and dead weep in honor of one._

_ "Saving all has a price, one a pocket watch pays,_

_ While the new learning seals his own fate, in a way,_

_ But monster, beware, for how you go about,_

_ It may just be the way that the truth will come out—_

_ Your reign is over, the truth will come out!"_

Clive blinked. "You know, it almost sounds like—."

"Yes, your attack on London," Dimitri agreed. "I'm suddenly incredibly anxious to meet this woman."

Mysti smiled. "Oh, she'll be back sooner or later." She glanced at the door. "It's Jon I'm worried about. Some people who come down here are always shifted about. But we're usually left alone." She paused for a moment, her eyes flicking back to Clive. "You know that, of course."

Clive coughed. "Know what?"

"Don't act like it's your first time down here, Clive Jefferson. It's been a while, but I never forget a face."

"Jefferson?" He hadn't used that last name in years! How could this woman know that?

Dimitri was just as surprised. "Jefferson? Your last name is Jefferson?"

"No," Clive said quickly. "It's Dove. My name is Clive Dove. You must be thinking of someone else. I've never been down here."

"Yes, you have," she insisted. "You were here about eleven years ago, for about a year. You didn't say much, but your mother—."

"My mother is dead," Clive said forcefully. "She died in a fire, which was the aftermath of an explosion. She's been dead for almost eleven years."

"Closer to seven, by my reckoning," Mysti corrected. She glanced again at the door. "She… she left you a note."

Clive sat up straighter. "She what?"

That was when the door flew open.

Clive squeezed his eyes shut at the suddenly light, falling backwards from the cell door as if shocked. Shouting reached his ears.

"I don't believe you, you monsters! Let me go!"

The voice was female, and familiar.

Someone grabbed his wrist, someone on the other side of the bars. Something cold and metallic closed around it.

There was a sudden and sharp pain. Everything started to fade, the sound, the blurred colors, all of it. A few shouts reached him.

"Leave him alone!" That was the female.

"Gloria Dove." That was Dimitri.

And then it all faded to black.

Professor Layton stood thoughtfully outside of the door to Flora's classroom. He wondered what sort of things Flora had written about in her "What I did over the summer" paper. Probably a detailed account of what had actually happened—from the sound of it, her teacher would not agree with anything she had written as fact.

The door opened, and an older woman with white streaks in her blonde hair peered out through a pair of large glasses. "Mr. Layton?"

"That would be me," he answered, smiling. She led him in and gestured to a chair next to one Flora was already sitting in.

"My name is Valencia Taylor. I am your daughter's teacher, if you haven't already heard that. Flora has been saying some… unsavory things. I believe that your daughter is a liar."

"I find that hard to believe, Madam," he disagreed cheerfully. "She may say some unbelievable things, but I assure you, they're nothing but the truth."

"Oh, is that so?"

She shuffled several of the papers on her desk. "She claims to own a flying car."

"The car is actually mine, but yes, it's true."

She raised an eyebrow. "And that you are a detective."

"Well, not officially, though I have solved several cases."

"And that you found the secret of one…" She consulted a list on her desk. "Elysian Box."

He just chuckled and raised his hands. "Guilty as charged."

Flora straightened up in her chair. "See, Mrs. Teller? I told, you, I'm not a liar! I just have a weirdly unusual life!"

"Redundant," the professor and Mrs. Teller said at the same time. Mrs. Teller scowled.

"So, you claim everything your daughter says is fact?"

"I have yet to hear a reason to believe otherwise," the professor admitted.

"Then it's true that you were on the machine that almost destroyed London this summer."

The professor couldn't hold back a smile. "I can't believe I didn't catch him sooner. I suppose that future thing really did mess me up."

"I would like to read an excerpt from Flora's 'What I Did This Summer' paper. It begins 'This summer, I traveled to the future, which turned out to not really be the future, but a look alike constructed in a cavern beneath London, but the false belief lead to me being kidnapped and stuck in a glass dome while the huge mechanical monster wreaked havoc on London. But allow me to start at the beginning.' Those were the first two sentences. I asked for a paper—Flora turned in an over three-hundred page novel!"

"You said I had to put everything interesting in!" Flora cried angrily. "I even asked you about it! You said every detail we could remember! So I did!"

"You expect me to believe this stuff about a village of robots?"

The professor glanced over at Flora. "I thought we weren't going to tell anyone about that."

"Oh… right…" She shot him an apologetic smile. "I forgot."

"Furthermore," the professor continued, "I see a problem in the way you've done this. You ask children to write a paper on their summer in spring. What do you plan to do with that? In addition, the students have probably forgotten most of their summer. Flora is an exception. She has gone above and beyond what you've asked her to do, and you scold her for it. How is that going to encourage her intellectual growth? Will you blame her for being unique? The only problem I see here is with your teaching, and I have half a mind to lodge a complaint about it."

Flora sat up straighter, loving it when her adopted father slipped into his university lecture mode. It wasn't common when he was speaking with people, but she supposed there were a select few that even a true gentleman couldn't get along with.

Mrs. Teller pursed her lips. "So, perhaps you can explain to me the travesty involving our prime minister?"

Flora winced. So did the professor.

"I… I'm afraid I'm no longer at liberty to say. Neither of us are."

Mrs. Teller raised an eyebrow. "And why not?"

The professor shrugged helplessly. "Legal reasons. We are no longer allowed any comment on anything we may or may not have learned about the prime minister's past on the night of the London attack."

"Really…"

She said nothing more on the subject, promised to change Flora's grade and to stop scolding her for lies, and told them they could go, which they did.

"No more stories at school, even in papers," the professor sighed, half disappointed that he couldn't tell Flora's teacher the truth. He had signed the document after being threatened with many deaths of friends.

"Okay," Flora promised, equally ashamed at having signed hers. "No more."

It was black. It was all black.

Clive tried to move. It was funny that he could. Was this all happening inside of his head? He'd never heard of people having conscious thoughts while they were unconscious.

He shivered and stood in the blackness. What was going on?

He could sense the moment something appeared behind him, and spun around.

There, slightly transparent, but perfectly clear even in the darkness, was Claire.

"What do you want?" His shaky voice echoed slightly in the blackness.

_I want you to free yourself. I want you to remember._ Her lips didn't move as she spoke, but she spoke, all the same.

She took a step towards him, placing her hand on his shoulder. _I want you to forgive yourself, Clive._

Clive pulled away, tears coming down his face. He had cared about Claire. He had loved her too, not in the way Layton had, of course, but as any relative cares for another. And he knew that he had as good as killed her, and that she had saved his life. "Don't."

_Clive…_

He took another step back. "Don't," he repeated. "I regret what I did. Don't you think that's pain enough, instead of torturing me again and again? Why are you persisting?"

_Clive, there is more going on here than you realize. You have to remember! I am not haunting you!_

"Then leave me alone!" he shouted, turning and beginning to run. That was when he heard it, the steady and monotonous ticking. The sound of the pocket watch, given as a symbol of true affection. Affection he longed to have, but would never deserve.

He ran through the eternal blackness, racing to get away from the sound. He was a coward. He could see now that he was terrified to face her. Though she faded from view after a few moments, the sound remained.

It would always remain. There was no way out. He was trapped in the blackness of guilt.

He would stay there forever.

He sank to his knees, tears coming now.

There was no way out.

There was no way out.

A long time passed before he felt her hand on his shoulder.

"Claire," he whispered, the tears having already dried. He could cry no more.

_Yes._

It was simple confirmation.

_And no._

That didn't entirely throw him. She was dead. So it couldn't entirely be her, right?

_I am your subconscious._

That threw him.

Clive sat up, confused. "What?"

_I am your subconscious. Clive, you have to forgive yourself and remember._

"Remember what?"

_The lost year. What happened the year after the explosion?_

Clive was silent for a long moment. What had happened? He had been adopted, right? But he couldn't remember anything that occurred after that. Try as he might, he could recall nothing that transpired the year following his parents death.

What did that mean? Could Mystery have been correct?

Claire/his subconscious smiled.

_Clive, I need you to do something for me. I need you to stand up and take three steps forward._

Clive glanced at her in surprise. "What? Why?"

_The first step on the path to recollection. I need you to find her._

"Who?"

_Please, Clive, she can explain better than I._

Clive stood up and nodded, shivering slightly. "You're coming too, right?"

_No, Clive. Her world is beyond mine. I await your return._

Clive swallowed, took a deep breath, and stepped forward. One. Two. Three.

A sudden brightness invaded his vision, and he squeezed his eyes shut. But it didn't really hurt. It was just a sense of brightness that wasn't there before.

He opened his eyes and openly gasped.

He was standing in his old apartment. It looked exactly like it had before, including a small stain on the hallway wall.

Clive had just entered through the front door. It was the most amazing sight he had ever seen, and was about to get better.

His mother stepped through one of the doors and smiled at him.

"There you are, Clive," she said, smiling. "She's waiting for you in the bedroom. She'll be quite happy you're finally here. You've kept her waiting for quite a while."

Clive, opened mouthed and unsure of what else to do, found his way to his bedroom and entered.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Three: In Danger

His bedroom had changed.

It was slightly messy. The old light blue covers had been shifted and no longer resembled a neat bed, but more of a pile. Someone had put a small television on the dresser, and someone sat in the center of his bed looking up at it.

It was a girl. She had startling blue eyes and short, light brown hair much like his. She smiled a bright smile as he came in. "Clive. You're here."

"Who are you?" he asked. "What is this?"

"I am Claviere. This is my world. My dream."

"What does that mean?"

She patted the edge of her bed. "You might want to sit."

Clive shook his head. "I prefer to stand."

She gave him a small, disbelieving smile before continuing. "My name is Claviere, and I was created here as part of an experiment."

Clive sat down. "Why are you in my head?"

"That's what I'm saying. It's not your head. It's mine too. And Velic's. But I'll explain him later.

"I was created here as part of an experiment on a theory. You wonder why there is a year you cannot remember? You can't remember it because the few bits of it you experienced were wiped from your mind."

"Wiped?"

"Yes. There is a theory that if someone is electrocuted to the point of death and no further, they either die anyways, or their personality splits. The later occurred for you. It created me."

Clive frowned, trying to make sense of what she was saying. "So you, in a way, are me."

"Yes," she answered, pleased he had grasped it so quickly. "More accurately, I'm what you've lost. I am your lost childhood, lost opportunities, and a girl, as you may have noticed. I'm guessing that's because everyone starts out without a gender, and I am what could have been."

Clive looked around at the familiar room. "I wish I was you."

Claviere's eyes sparkled. "I'm not so sure you'll continue with that feeling."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, I'm all in your head. You wouldn't be able to do anything." She was silent for a moment. "You're the dominant personality. If you want to, really want to, you can be in control. Unfortunately, if you are shocked with certain levels of electricity, it can cause one of the other personalities to take over. Like Velic did."

Clive was silent for a long moment. "But I can get in control again?"

"Sure. Master your area of the subconscious, then come and see me. I'll tell you what to do next."

Clive blinked. "Um… okay."

Claviere smiled. "Hurry. Use the front door. I'll see you later."

Clive stood up, stared at the girl as she turned her attention back to the television, and finally turned away, going to do as she said.

xXx

_It was supposed to be the end. She was going to die._

_It was a scary thought, but one she could handle. As long as this was the future, though it could be better, she could live with dying._

_As if she could change it._

_Still, tears were in her eyes as she walked away from him, away from the dream of love to harsh reality. To the end._

_And then there had been the yank, in an indescribable direction, pulling her away. Then came the pain._

_There was light and heat, flashes of it all around her, and it hurt, it hurt so badly. Screams lingered in the air in that infinite moment, and then she fell to the ground, face first._

_She tried to turn herself over, but she had no more strength. It hurt to breathe._

_So Claire closed her eyes and let herself drift away…_

_It was dark. There was something around her ankle._

_She could hear the murmur of voices. She moaned. Her head ached._

_She was alive. She couldn't argue it. She was _alive.

_And she realized what the next years of her life would be, and what must have happened, and she screamed. She screamed, and screamed, and screamed, and she didn't stop._

xXx

Someone shook her shoulder.

Claire blinked. One of the guards must have thrown her into the wall. That would explain the headache.

"You okay?" Mystery whispered to her friend.

Claire pulled herself up. "Fine. What did I miss?"

"Clive Jefferson came back."

"Really?" Claire cast her gaze through the bars separating them to the red-haired woman. "Excellent."

"You're happy?"

This voice belonged to one of the scientists in this hell-hole.

"Evening, Gloria," Claire said, purposefully slurring her words slightly.

"It's three in the morning," the scientist snapped.

"Not by your watch. It's five in the evening."

Gloria muttered something unintelligible and covered her digital watch with the sleeve of her lab coat.

Claire smirked. "Missed me again. I just keep sneaking out under your nose…"

"To bad you can't _stay_ out."

Claire adopted a wounded expression. "But Gloria, dear, if I were to stay out, I'd miss the wonderful birthday parties you throw me."

Said birthday parties usually involved a slap in the face.

Gloria snorted and turned around.

"_Claire_?"

She heard the voice, but instead focused on the man who responded, the man currently leaning on the bars of her cell and smirking. "What, old man, don't tell me you didn't realize."

"Velic!" she giggled. "Long time, no see!"

"I love you too, cuz."

"You're not my cousin. You're some sick, twisted…"

"How nice. You wouldn't call Clive that?"

"Of course not, not with your influence. In fact, I'm very proud that he didn't do something rash, like nuke the city. You, on the other hand…"

"Enough small talk," Gloria broke in. "Dimitri, think about my offer."

"No."

"So, don't. Your choice. You can stay here forever if you want."

Dimitri was here? Claire glanced across at the man who liked her. He looked as bad as he had when he'd experienced the London attack… Oh, right, that had only been a few months ago. It was hard to keep track of it all.

"Bye-bye, Gloria," Claire sang as Gloria, Velic, and the guards left the room.

Dimitri looked at her carefully. It was impossible to tell what was going through his head, but when he spoke, it wasn't what she'd been expecting.

"Are you drunk?"

Claire glanced at Mysti before bursting out laughing as Mysti did the same.

"Oh, gosh, no, no… I just like to give the guards a hard time," she choked out.

It was several minutes before they got their mirth under control.

"So, what's going on in the outside world?" she asked. "Hershel still wearing his hat? Never mind, I already know the answer. What did Gloria want to know?"

Dimitri bit his lip. "She wants me to work with them."

"Me too!" Claire said enthusiastically. "I told them that they could go to hell. And I've been here ever since."

Dimitri smiled. "That's what I said. Why were you calling Clive 'Velic'?"

Claire grimaced. "Because that's his name. Clive has a rare form of Multiple Personality Disorder—I'm not sure he's even aware of it. I do know that it's like there are several consciousnesses in his mind, and sometimes they fight for control. He's the dominate one, though. Velic is another one. Look out—he's dangerous and unpredictable. He influenced Clive to create the machine."

Dimitri shifted uneasily. "I must admit, I'm confused."

"Good," Claire said cheerfully, before glancing over at Mysti, who also looked mystified. "Now, who's up for escaping?"

xXx

Flora sighed as she reached the school. She was late. Again.

But it wasn't her fault someone had decided to rob the jewelry store she passed! Of course she'd had to pause and point out a few clues the police had over looked!

Of course, she doubted that Mrs. Teller, of all the teachers, would believe her.

She walked into her classroom and sat down. Hopefully Mrs. Teller wouldn't call her out again. Please, please, please…

"Flora!"

Flora sighed. Apparently not. She looked up. "Yes, Mrs. Teller?"

Veronica Teller's eyes bulged. "Is that blood?"

Flora frowned. "Where?"

"On your cheek."

Flora gingerly touched her cheek, surprised when it hurt, and when her hand came away red. "Yes, I suppose it is. I don't remember that happening."

Mrs. Teller raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Flora frowned again. No, that wasn't true. She could vaguely remember one of the glass shards from the window of the store slicing her cheek when she pointed out that the glass was outside of the window, and therefore had been smashed from within, possibly as an escape route. "It may have happened when I was at the jewelry store."

"So, is that where you were? Looking at rings and necklaces when you should have been here?"

"No, ma'm. There was a robbery, and I stopped to assist the police. One should always assist the police where they can. It's how I was brought up."

Mrs. Teller frowned, but, for some reason, didn't tell her off. "Hurry and clean yourself up in the lavatory. Then get back here. We're having a guest speaker in the auditorium."

Flora nodded and scurried off.

xXx

As soon as Clive left the flat, the world warped, and he was once again in darkness. His subconscious, still looking like Claire, stood there waiting for him.

_So, how did it go?_

"I'm not sure how you would define 'good'," Clive admitted, "but I think it went well."

She smiled. _What do you have to do?_

"Master my subconscious…" he trailed off, unsure of what that meant.

But Claire clapped her hands. _Excellent! I can help you with that!_

"You can?"

_Of course! This darkness is your subconscious—your area of it, at any rate. You are the master of it. You saw what her area of it looked like? You can make this part of your subconscious look like however you want. That's what she meant._

"But how do I do that?"

Claire bit her lip. _That, I'm not entirely sure of. But you really should just be able to wave your hand and make this look however you want._

Clive grinned. He waved his hand in the air. "Like this?" he joked.

His mouth fell open as the darkness around him whisked away. He was standing in a laboratory—one very similar to the one he'd built in his London facsimile.

Claire smiled proudly. _Exactly_, she agreed happily.

xXx

"Jenna says you haven't been eating. Is everything alright?"

The white cat tipped her head, surprised the boy was speaking to her. _I've been eating. Just where have you been getting your information?_

"Jenna," the boy explained, understanding the cat completely. "Is there a reason I shouldn't trust her?"

Ever since the town had discovered Luke's talents in conversing with animals, they'd begun paying him to come find out what was wrong with the animals—at ten pounds a visit, he was much cheaper than a vet, an excellent deal, especially if the animal was just upset.

The cat seemed to laugh. _If it's Jenna, then yes! Just the other day, she was writing about how she was going to marry you one day in her diary. Of course, the moment she saw I was looking at it, she slammed it closed, and screamed at me to get out. Could you please tell her I don't like being called a useless lump of fluff?_

The boy choked. "I-I'll be sure to pass that along."

The cat smiled. _You're smarter than most people, I'll give you that. No wonder Jenna likes you._

Then she flicked her tail and pranced away.

Luke sighed and stood up. He walked downstairs, where Jenna and her mother stood, chatting.

"Your cat's fine," he assured them. "Though she doesn't like being called a useless lump of fluff, Jenna."

Jenna flushed. "I…" She wasn't sure what to tell him.

Luke raised a finger. "And please, don't hire me to look at your animal as a way to talk to me." Jenna's blush deepened as her mother raised an eyebrow. "I'm always happy to talk to you at school, though marriage is a long way off. Yes, your cat can read," he added under their quizzical looks. "She told me."

"Jenna…" her mother began, but the phone ringing cut her off. She went to answer it, leaving Luke and Jenna alone.

"I'm sorry, Luke," Jenna started. "It's just, I never really knew what to say to you, so I kind of…" She blushed furiously again, digging in her pocket. "I can pay you extra if you want."

Luke shook his head. "I couldn't. It's not what a gentleman would do. There was nothing wrong with Lucia, so I'm not going to charge you at all. It was… a rather enlightening conversation."

Jenna bit her lip and shifted uneasily. "I'm sorry."

Her mother poked her head through the door. "Luke, do you know a man named Hershel Layton?"

Luke jumped up immediately at his mentor's name. "The professor? Is something wrong?"

"He said to tell you the next episode of 'Hawkins' is out," she answered, stepping into the room.

Luke stiffened, and would have fallen over if he hadn't had a good grip on the table. That meant something had gone wrong. Something really bad had probably happened. "Did he say anything else?" he whispered, turning white.

Jenna's mother frowned at Luke's reaction. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine!" Luke said, a little too forcefully. "Did he say anything else?"

"He said it was one you probably wouldn't like—something about a man named Bill kidnapping your favorite character? A girl named Florence?"

Luke knew the code he and the professor had come up with through their letters, mostly as a joke.

But this was really happening.

Luke took a deep breath.

This was really happening.

"I've never heard of a show called 'Hawkins' before," Jenna said.

Luke fell to his knees. This couldn't be happening. It was impossible. _This couldn't be happening._

"Luke!"

Both Jenna and her mother were helping him to his feet, carrying him to the couch, laying him down.

His cell phone, something his mother had insisted on buying for him, rang in his pocket. She and his father were the only two who knew the number—Luke didn't actually know what it was himself.

Somehow, he found the strength to lift his phone to his ear. "He...Hello?" His voice sounded distant, but the voice on the other end yanked him to his senses.

"Luke?"

"Dad?" Luke wasn't sure why his father was calling him. They'd never really gotten along, but Luke had always been tolerated, provided he stayed out of the way and got good grades.

"Luke, I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, but I just wanted to apologize. You're my son. And… I never really saw that."

"Dad?" Luke repeated, dumbfounded at what was coming out of his father's mouth.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry for the way I've treated you. I never really thought of you as my son, more of an annoyance. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I never said it, and I'm sorry I may never get the chance again, but I love you. I love you."

"DAD!" Luke screamed, finally recognizing the tone in his father's voice. The tone of someone ready for death and embracing it.

"I love you, Luke," he repeated, then there was a loud bang, and the phone went dead.

"DAD!" Luke screamed again, not wanting to believe it. "Dad! Dad!" Tears rose to his eyes, but there was no response on the other end.

The phone fell from his fingers and hit the ground, where it fell to pieces.

He was alone.

The professor didn't know where he was.

Flora had been kidnapped.

His parents were dead.

He was alone, and they…

They were coming for him next.


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N. I suddenly realized all of these people are reading this, but no one's reviewing it. So you'd better review, or Flora will send you cookies. (And last time she made them, the nuclear power plant discovered that they were missing some plutonium. So review!)**

Chapter Four: Exactly How It All Came About

Flora returned to her classroom after cleaning herself up.

"Took you long enough," Mrs. Teller snorted. "You have detention after school today for telling tales and being late. Sit down, so I can take a proper role call."

"I was under the impression that you did that at the beginning of the day, not after a late student walked in," Flora replied cheekily.

Mrs. Teller set her jaw. "I adjusted my ways after you became a part of this class."

Flora shifted in her seat. I was true that she was late, but it wasn't exactly her fault everyone stopped her on the way to school for help on a puzzle, was it?

She sat quietly during roll call, wondering who was going to speak to the school. Why was it unscheduled? Perhaps…

She shook her head clearing it of the thoughts. This puzzle would be answered soon enough.

"Line up, please."

Flora sighed and took her place at the door, right at the end of the line.

Mrs. Teller led the class to the auditorium, sat them down with the rest of the school, and took her place next to Flora.

The curtain went up.

A man walked on stage.

Gasps rose from the audience. What was he doing here, at their school?

Flora didn't gasp. She knew. She paled and stood, she had to get out of there, but—

"Where are you going?" Mrs. Teller hissed, taking a firm hold on Flora's arm. "Sit back down!"

"…Bathroom," Flora mumbled pathetically, knowing, in all honesty, her teacher wasn't going to let her flee the auditorium.

"You were just there! Sit back down!"

Flora moaned and sank back into her seat, settling to just send a scathing glare at the man on stage: Bill Hawks.

He smiled coldly at the student body. "Good Morning. I'm here to address the strange rumors that have been circulating this school."

Flora took a deep breath. Then another. He was here. That couldn't be good…

Her teacher glanced over at her. "Are you alright?"

She shook her head.

Mrs. Teller frowned. "Well, you can't just leave. He's here because of the rumors you started."

Flora took another deep breath. "I know. I know. And they're not rumors, they're facts! That's why he's here! He… he's going to…"

"There have been some rather odd stories around recently. I would appreciate it if the person who began them would stand up."

Everyone in the auditorium looked at Flora.

She took another deep breath and stood.

That cold smile played around on the prime minister's lips for a moment longer. "Ah. Miss Reinhold?"

Flora shifted uneasily. "Yessir."

"Would you like to apologize for the lies you've been telling?"

Flora stood there a moment longer. The sensible part of her told her to sit down and shut up—but the braver half pointed out that as she was already ashamed for signing the secrecy form…

For a moment, the cold smile on her lips matched his. "No."

"No?"

"I will not apologize for speaking the truth. I will not sit here and listen to you lie."

He raised an eyebrow. "Would you like to step down here, Miss Reinhold?"

She shook her head. "I'd rather stay up here where you can't have one of your men shoot me and make it look like an assassination attempt."

Everyone was silent. You could hear a pin drop, and, ironically, one did.

As the boy with the falling pin scrambled to pick it up, Bill Hawks forced a laugh.

"You really do have delusions," he chuckled.

"No delusions, sir. I know you've killed before, and you wouldn't hesitate to do it again."

"Oh?" he asked. "Pray tell, who?"

Flora ran through the mental list of names she actually knew. "You killed Claire Marelli. You killed Clive's parents. You sent my adopted father to the hospital. You have murdered in cold blood, and I, for one, am tired of sitting around with no one listening, because _you_ are paying them off! I'm tired of no one daring to look into what I say because of threatening letters they receive from _you_! I'm tired of it all, and I intend to do something about it!"

There was a long moment of silence again before Bill Hawks attempted (poorly) to force a laugh again.

"Miss Reinhold, I'm afraid you're simply delusional," he repeated.

"You can say that," Flora answered. "I don't care. I don't care what you say about me because I know not a word of it is true. And I know that you know that everything I've been saying is nothing but the truth, and that you did kill all those people. So I don't care what you say about me because I know that I speak the truth, and you stopped speaking it a long time ago. Get out of my school, because nothing you can say in front of an audience—anything not threatening everyone I've ever met—is something that can stop me from telling the truth."

And, with that, she turned on her heel, pushed past her open-mouthed teacher, and stormed out of the auditorium, leaving the silent, wide eyed students behind her.

xXx

Professor Layton arrived at Gressenheller late that morning. He sprinted down the hallways—his lecture was supposed to have begun ten minutes ago!—until he reached the room.

He pulled up short at the door, and was about to open it when he heard a strange sound. Silence.

Why, in a college class with eighty students and no teacher, was there silence?

And then he heard the voice.

"…By elimination, we can conclude that this urn was indeed found in India. Any questions?"

It was his own.

An imposter!

The professor was seized with the urge to burst through the door and call the man out, but he stopped himself. It sounded like the man was reciting the lecture he had written, and this led to several questions.

The most obvious: who was this man?

How had he gotten his hands on the professor's lecture?

And, perhaps most importantly, what did he want?

Perhaps the professor could find something out by waiting. Observing.

So he turned around and went to the first and only place he could think of.

xXx

Flora sat outside her classroom, staring across the hall at the lockers, and thinking. What was going to happen now? She knew she shouldn't have argued with Hawks, but now that she had…

She let a small smile flicker across her face. It _had_ felt good…

"Flora!"

She glanced up to see Mrs. Teller leaning over her. "Is something the matter, Mrs. Teller?"

"Your atrocious behavior—how on earth could you speak to the prime minister like that?"

Flora grinned. "Very happily."

"Detention for the rest of the month. And I'm going to call your father."

Flora grimaced, though she privately doubted that the professor would punish her. Not for this.

"How can you be pleased with yourself? You insulted our national leader!"

"It made me feel better about signing that da…stupid secrecy form. And I'm officially forgetting I did sign it. I'm done listening to him."

She noticed Hawks as he walked past her hall, surrounded by several body guards.

"DO YOU HEAR ME?" she shouted. "SCREW YOUR FORM! I DON'T CARE ANYMORE! YOU AND YOUR SECRETS CAN GO TO—!"

Mrs. Teller clamped a hand over her mouth. "Are you insane?"

Flora froze, realizing what she had just said. "I wouldn't say insane, though possibly suicidal," she whispered.

One of the guards detached himself from the group and approached her. Flora moved to run, but Mrs. Teller once again took a firm grip on her arm.

"Mr. Hawks desires to speak to Miss Reinhold," the man said. "Alone."

Mrs. Teller pushed Flora towards the man.

"If I'm not here tomorrow, I blame you," Flora hissed.

The guard escorted her to a private section of the hallway, where Hawks stood waiting. Then he left. They were alone. She was alone with _him_.

As soon as this fact registered, he was pushing her up against one of the lockers.

"_You_," he hissed. "You made me look like a fool."

Flora blinked. "You don't need me to make you look like a fool." Dang it, why did her cheeky side always come out at the most unwelcome moments?

He scowled. "You will regret this."

"Trust me, already there."

"No."

She could hear the smirk in his voice, the mad laughter within. "You will regret you ever said any of that. You will regret ever doing anything to cross me. _You will regret the day you were born_."

Flora blinked cutely. "I'm sorry sir, but I _like_ living."

"You will regret living soon enough."

Flora yawned. "Apparently not soon enough. I do regret helping to save you from the fortress, though. Frankly, I think your ashes could do better fertilizing the ground than you're doing right now."

His eyes flamed with anger—something Flora didn't miss.

"What are you going to do?" she whispered. "Kill me? Make me 'disappear'? People will ask questions. They know what I've said. They'll know I've been speaking the truth. And you won't be prime minister much longer. I'd be surprised if you stayed out of jail."

Hawks threw her to the ground and leaned over her.

"No. I won't kill you."

He started to laugh. That was the scary thing—it wasn't forced at all.

"No," he repeated. "I'll do something much, much worse."

He stalked off, leaving Flora to ponder what exactly he meant by that.

And then she remembered the professor, slammed the back of her head against the nearest locker and swore.

xXx

The professor wasn't entirely sure why he thought this person could help. But if she could, it would answer a lot of questions he had.

So he knocked on the door.

There was a moment of silence. Then he heard footsteps on the other side, and someone opened the door.

Her mouth fell open. "Professor Layton?" she gasped.

The professor smiled apologetically. "Hello, Emmy," he told his former assistant. "Do you mind if I come in?"

xXx

Dimitri leaned against the side of the alley, gasping for breath. "I don't understand anything of what happened back there. Will someone please explain it to me?"

Mystery smirked, setting down an unconscious Clive/Velic. "Aw, is the man tired?"

"No," Dimitri lied. "I'm just a little confused."

"I'll explain when we get there," Claire promised. "It's just a few more blocks."

"Seriously, how can you carry Clive and not be tired?" Dimitri asked Mystery, who just shrugged.

"No clue."

Claire grimaced. "I have an idea, and I don't like it one bit. Come on guys, we're almost there."

xXx

Emmy was enthralled by the idea of an imposter.

"So, I just need to find out what he's up to," the professor explained.

"No problem," Emmy answered cheerfully. "Recently, my sister taught me how to set up spy cameras that'll remotely send the video they take to a computer."

The professor blinked. "What?"

Emmy laughed. "As technologically challenged as always. Look, I'll put cameras in your house and office to see what he's doing, okay? Stay here. I'll be back in an hour."

She started out the door before poking her head back in. "Oh, and for legal reasons, you did give me permission, correct?"

He nodded and she left.

xXx

"Flora?"

Flora opened her eyes and looked up at the small girl standing over her. She thought the girl's name was Lilia, but they'd never really spoken before.

"You…" Lilia was speechless. "You just stood up to the prime minister… he threatened you…"

Flora gave her an apologetic smile and stood. "Yeah. I guess I did. Kind of stupid of me, huh?"

Lilia nodded wordlessly.

"How did you see it?"

"I was in the bathroom…" the younger girl explained. "He musta thought the hall was deserted, but I saw him holding you like that, and I got scared and hid, and kinda saw the whole thing."

She shivered.

Flora reached out her hand. "I'm sorry he scared you like that. He's not a very nice prime minister, is he?"

Lilia shook her head and took Flora's offered hand. "You're really brave to stand up to him like that."

Flora shook her head. "I'm not brave, I'm an idiot. I wasn't thinking about what I was saying, it all just kind of came out. And now I think there's going to be a lot of trouble."

Lilia let a shaky smile come through. "I think you're going to have to survive Mrs. Teller first."

There was moment of silence before she spoke again.

"So all those things you said—about him killing people—they're true?"

Flora nodded solemnly. "I'd suggest you never tell anyone."

Lilia nodded quickly. "I can keep a secret!"

"I never thought you couldn't!" Flora laughed. "Come on, I need to get back to class before I get _another_ detention. The rest of the month is plenty for me!"

Lilia followed Flora back to class.

Mrs. Teller was standing at the door. "Well, Miss Reinhold?"

"Yes, Mrs. Teller?" Flora asked.

"What did the prime minister want?"

"He pushed me up against a locker and threatened me," Flora answered, not entirely thinking about what she was saying again. "Do you think I could get him arrested for promising to make me regret being born?"

"He's a national figure!"

"He's a national as—."

"It's true, Mrs. Teller," Lilia said quickly. "He had her up against a locker. I thought he was going to strangle her!"

"_I_ thought he was going to strangle me," Flora added.

"Flora Reinhold, shut up before I give you detention for the rest of the year! Telling tales and now getting other students to lie for you! This is too much!"

"I'm not lying!" Lilia and Flora chimed in perfect unison.

"Enough! Go sit down, the both of you! Miss Daniels, I'm completely ashamed. I would have expected this behavior from Flora, but not from you. Detention."

Both girls meekly went to their seats.

"Sorry I got you a detention," Flora whispered.

"Sorry I couldn't convince her that you're not a devious little sneak," Lilia answered quietly. They both smiled.

Flora was smiling because even though she was worried for what would happen next, she had a friend.

_A friend…_

She'd never had a friend before. She'd always been the outcast, the girl who told fantastic tales that couldn't be true.

But now someone did believe her. She had a friend.

xXx

"Are we there yet?" Dimitri gasped again.

"Yes!"

"What?"

Claire ran through the pouring rain to bang loudly on a nearby door.

It opened.

Rhonda Altava grinned. "Hey, guys, come on in. I've been waiting for you."

xXx

"…And there we go. All set up."

It had taken most of the day, but they'd finally set up the cameras.

"There's something not right here," the professor murmured, watching his doppelganger on the screens.

"What's wrong about it?" Emmy asked. "He's impersonating you. We could call the police on him. We _should_ call the police on him."

"That's not what I'm referring to," the professor answered. "It's what he's doing."

"He's sitting in your office doing nothing."

"Exactly."

Emmy shook her head. "I don't get it."

"Why go through the trouble of impersonating me? He must want something. That something is obviously not in my office. So what does he want?"

The man began to pick up, preparing to leave.

"It doesn't make sense…" the professor repeated. Then his eyes widened. "Oh no…"

xXx

Flora was walking home when the Laytonmobile rode by.

The professor had rolled down the window. "Do you want a ride?"

"Of course!" Flora laughed as the car pulled to a stop. She opened the back door and slipped in. "Is it another mystery, Professor?"

She caught his wary smile in the rear view mirror. "Of a sorts, my dear. Of a sorts."


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry this one took awhile. The other ones were mostly written, plus I was distracted by several random sequel ideas… We'll see where it goes.**

**Also, I've noticed that only one person has thought to review this story. I'm very disappointed. If you people who are reading this and enjoying it don't start reviewing, I'll stop writing this story: in fact, I won't post the next chapter until someone other than MouseMaster42 reviews. (Thanks for reviewing three times, Mouse!)**

**So, review! If you don't, that cake Flora made will be arriving soon!**

Chapter Five: One Week Later

The ship had arrived. That was all that was important. Not the fact that he shouldn't have been on it. Not the fact that he was a stow-away with little money and fewer belongings.

He was here. Here, he could find help. Here, he could survive.

People jostled him as he sank into the crowd. Would they be searching for him here? No, no, that was a ridiculous thought.

Still, it would be better to stay out of sight.

Luke slipped silently through the crowds at the docks. All he had to do was make it to London. Even if it was just the outskirts—he knew his way to Gressenheller University from there. But hopefully, he'd have enough for a taxi.

He reached the street quickly, though it took him ten minutes to finally flag down a bright yellow taxi. He checked the fares written on the side and did some quick mental calculations—he would have just enough to get to Gressenheller. That was a good omen, right?

Luke clambered into the back. "Gressenheller University, please," he told the driver politely.

The driver grunted and raised an eyebrow. "Little young to be traveling alone, ain't ya, kid?"

The lies came easily now. "Yes, sir. I went to see Ireland with my friends. It was really neat, but I'm glad to be back in London. My dad works at Gressenheller, and I'm going to surprise him."

They prattled on about pointless things for the rest of the car ride (at one point Luke even launched into a fictional story about climbing around on the Giant's Causeway) until the car finally pulled up at the university.

Luke counted out the correct number of bills, gave the driver a five pound tip, and climbed out of the car. He took a deep breath before entering the school.

xXx

_Establish Dominance._

Clive mulled this thought over as he sat in his "thinking chair", a comfy chair he had conjured up a while ago. He wasn't sure how long he'd been trapped in his own head—a few days at least. He'd tried to do as Claviere instructed and watch what this Velic saw on a TV he'd pulled from the air, but all he saw was a cream colored ceiling.

If that were really what Velic was seeing, he wouldn't be at that facility any more…

The thought hit him like a bombshell. Velic wasn't inside the cell. He'd escaped! And as soon as Clive established this dominance, he'd be…

Free? Not free, not exactly. Freer. That was something he could stand.

"How am I supposed to do this?" he asked the ghost-like Claire standing in the corner.

_Establish your dominance. You are stronger than him._

"And thank you for the same thing you've been saying all day. Exactly how, Einstein, do I do that?"

She stared at him blankly.

Clive rolled his eyes and stood up. "Should I do the childish thing again?"

She continued to stare.

"Right…" he muttered, and, feeling like an idiot, stretched him arm out in front of him, glad that no one was there to see him. "Velic! I am stronger than you and demand my rightful place in control!"

A sharp sound reached his ears—Claire was giggling.

And he knew he'd gotten it right.

xXx

_A blur of bright colors._

_A black shadow, a shadow of himself rose up in front of him, solid against the spinning background. This was what had to be destroyed._

_The shadow rushed at him, screeching, but he pushed it away. The shadow tried to push him downwards, back to the prison of his mind, but he used the arms to pull himself upwards._

_Upwards! That was the way to go! He could make it!_

_He pulled himself up past the shadow, up towards the light, the control, but the black shadow latched a hand onto his ankle, holding on with an unshakable grip._

_A weight crashed down on him, the weight of slight insanity, the weight he'd felt while he'd tried to destroy London. This was why it had seemed like such a good idea. This… thing had been influencing him._

_He couldn't make it. Not without that piece of insanity latched onto him._

_And then a swirling silver arm reached up from below. The silver figure entered the fray, taking a firm hold onto the shadow and pulling it off. The figure's elbow brushed his leg, and a message reached his consciousness._

"Climb, Clive! You're almost there!"

_He pulled himself from the shadow's grip and climbed, finally reaching the top as the silver figure wrapped itself around the black one and pulled it down into the depths of his mind._

_Because this was his mind._

_He had reached the top. This was his mind._

_For a moment, he saw himself as the others must have seen him, a glistening gold figure standing triumphant, and then it all went black._

xXx

Clive's eyes flew open.

Yes, his actual eyes. He was in control again. He laughed brightly, ecstatic in the fact that he was alive and in his own body.

He felt… more solid, somehow. Plus it was great to not be insane.

That was when he realized that the cream ceiling he was looking at was familiar. He'd seen it before.

He could swear that he was…

The door to the room he was in flew open.

"Did I just hear you laughing?"

The voice wasn't one he knew, and he scrambled to sit up before realizing that his arms and legs had been tied to the bed he was lying on.

A bed! He was in a bed!

"Why… why am I tied up?" he finally asked, straining to get a look at the person in the doorway.

"Because you've been threatening to kill us for a while?" the person offered, taking a step closer. Clive was finally able to see a tall, thin woman with short, dark, bouncy hair.

"Have I? Oh, you mean Velic?"

She smirked. "Oh, Velic, are you trying the 'I just became Clive again and have no idea what the heck's going on, will someone please explain what's happening to me?' thing again?"

Clive blinked. "Did he really try that?" He thought for a moment, trying to figure out how he'd persuade this woman to the truth. "I really am Clive, but I have no clue how to prove that to you." Honesty was the best policy…

The woman arched an eyebrow. "Do you want to explain to me why you were laughing?"

"I'm free!" Clive answered happily before realizing how stupid that sounded, as he was currently tied to a bed. "I mean… That is… My mind is free… Um…" He blushed.

"Right…" the woman rolled her eyes and left the room.

Clive slumped onto the bed. How was he going to prove his innocence? And, more importantly, could he?

Probably not.

He sighed. Was there anything he could say? Nothing came to mind. He closed his eyes, ready to sleep.

A few noises reached his ears. Talking. More people had come into the room.

Clive was about to open his eyes when someone reached down and pressed on his eyelids, stopping him.

"What is your name?" asked a soft voice as another hand wrapped gently around his wrist.

"Clive," he answered, without hesitation.

"Your full name," the voice clarified.

"Clive…" _Dove._ He had taken the last name in honor of Constance.

"Clive…" he began again, but couldn't force the last name from his lips. Why? Maybe… maybe it wasn't his last name.

"Jefferson," he finally finished. "My name is Clive Jefferson."

The person covering his eyes at once let go and released his wrist. "He's telling the truth."

There was a collective sigh of relief as Clive opened his eyes. He noticed the dark haired woman untying him, but that was a lesser part of his consciousness. Because what he was focused on was something completely inexplicable. Something making no sense what so ever. And yet, there it was, defying all logic.

Claire Marelli was looking down at him.

"I'm still in my mind, right?" he asked.

She grinned. "Welcome back, Clive."

xXx

"So we're sure this is where she is?"

Emmy nodded. "Professor, I've seen her going in there myself."

Professor Layton frowned. It didn't make a lot of sense. "Unaccompanied?"

"I didn't say it made sense. I said that it was her."

The professor quietly moaned and laid his head on the table. "We have to get her out of there."

Emmy nodded. "I think I have an idea." Something on the nearby monitor caught her eye. "Wait a second. Is that…?"

The professor looked where she gestured, at the small figure running for his life, and the taller man in fast pursuit. "Oh no…"

There was a tense moment of silence.

"Let's hold off on the rescue mission," Emmy decided.

xXx

Luke had entered the school.

It hadn't been that long since he'd been there, and he still knew the way to the professor's office by heart.

Unfortunately, standing outside of said office was Dean Delmona.

Luke took a deep breath, silently praying that the dead hadn't seen the posters yet: they had been all over Ireland. He was wanted for questioning in his parent's disappearance.

The only relief that bought him was that his parents might still be alive. Their bodies hadn't been found.

But if the dean had seen them…

"Luke, my boy! I didn't know you were back! Visiting Hershel, I presume?"

Apparently he hadn't.

"Only for a little while. Is he not in his office?"

"Oh, I'm afraid not. By the way, do you know if he's gotten any farther on that puzzle I asked him a few days ago?"

A few… A few days ago? The professor never took that long on a puzzle!

"No, I'm afraid he hasn't said anything to me. What was the puzzle?" Luke hoped the dean didn't catch the note of concern in his voice.

"Well, there are two bridges. One is weak and will collapse if you cross it, and one will hold. You can't tell by looking at them. Each is guarded by a man, one who always lies, and one who always tells the truth. You can ask only one of them one question. What question do you ask?"

Luke blinked. "The professor didn't know that?"

The dean slowly shook his head.

"But…" Luke frowned, trying to put the pieces together. "But… I think I told him that puzzle a while ago. He never forgets a puzzle."

"So you know the answer?" the dean asked excitedly.

"Yes, you just ask 'which bridge would the other guy tell me to take?' and take other one."

Dean Delmona's eyes lit up. "Oh, so that's it! I was wondering if you should chuck the bridges and take your chances with the river."

Luke raised an eyebrow. "Maybe it's infested with alligators."

"Or crocodiles. Or piranhas. Or barracudas," the dead chuckled. "Oh, and Luke, would you mind…"

"I will never mention this to your granddaughter, don't worry," he promised, knowing from experience that she was the only one in the family who would give the dean a puzzle like that.

"Thank you, my boy! Oh, and I'm sure Hershel's around. If you want me to wait with you…"

Luke was already digging in his bag. "Thank you for the offer, sir, but I think I still have the professor's spare key. I'll wait in his office."

"As you wish," the dean said with a grin, giving Luke a cheery wave as he departed.

But even the dean's cheery attitude could do nothing for Luke's nerves. He could swear that some was… wrong. The professor's class was in an hour: why wasn't he in his office? He was always early.

Okay, perhaps there had been that one time, but there had been extreme circumstances…

He finally located the elusive key and unlocked the door, stepping into the office. He almost sat down in the chair in front of the professor's desk before remembering just how dang uncomfortable it was and opting for a more comfortable option.

Luke sank into the soft chair he'd so often sat in… Had he only been four months since he'd last been here? It felt more like four years.

And everything had changed. Now the police were looking for him and Flora was missing. It had to have something to do with Bill Hawks: the professor had practically said so, what with the made up show "Hawkins".

He frowned suddenly, realizing the office was much cleaner than usual. Someone (probably not the professor) had tidied it. It couldn't have been Flora…

Something caught his eye, a small maroon button lying forgotten in the corner. He stood up to pick up the button. Something about it seemed familiar. If he wasn't mistaken, it belonged to…

He shoved the button into his pocket and retreated to his chair as he heard raised voices approaching the room.

"Professor, please! I really need the help, and you told me you were free a week ago!"

"That was a week ago. I'm busy right now."

"But Professor—."

"I AM BUSY!"

Luke jumped as a particularly taxed looking Professor Layton came storming into his office and slammed the door.

Wait, had the professor just been shouting at a student? A female student?

He'd recognized the voice: Rosetta's.

The professor had been shouting at a lady?

"What was all that about?" Luke asked innocently, hoping for a humorous reaction from the professor.

He didn't get one.

Instead, the professor threw open the door and pointed. "Out!"

Luke began to obey—he'd learned to automatically obey that voice. Before the professor could shut the door on him, he turned. "Are you feeling alright?"

"No classes," the professor snapped, again jabbing his finger at the hall.

Luke frowned. This wasn't at all like the professor. In fact, it was almost as if…

"Don Paolo? Is that you?"

"Who? Never mind. Out!"

Luke scowled, realizing the professor's hair was darker than usual. And his eyes were lighter. That, plus the fact that he'd been unable to solve a simple puzzle, had actually _cleaned_ his office, and didn't recognize him meant one thing.

"You're not the professor. Who are you?"

The man's eyes bulged for a second, then he lunged at Luke.

Luke, completely expecting it, leapt backwards and took off down the hall.

His mind was whirling with possible solutions. Who was this man? Why was he pretending to be Professor Layton?

More importantly, the man was over taking him. Ah well, that meant he'd have to make a scene.

"IMPOSTER!" he shouted, taking the nearest stairs. "IMPOSTER!"

He winced, suddenly regretting doing this as a practical joke the last April Fool's Day he'd spent with the professor. It had gotten a lot of attention and laughs afterwards.

But that had only been that one time, and it was April first…

He got some weird glances from students, but that was about it. He made his fatal mistake when he sprinted into the library.

Oh no, that was a dead end, wasn't it?

"Dang it," he muttered, diving behind the nearest bookcase. Maybe he could find a phone and…

Too late. The man had caught Luke's arm in an iron grip.

As he dragged Luke behind him, Luke struggled, catching onto the man's face to try and tug off the mask.

Except… it didn't come off. Whoever this man was, he actually looked _that much like the professor_.

The man just kept carrying him, shoving him in the trunk of the Laytonmobile (where had he gotten that?) and driving to their location.

It was there that everything got very complicated.

**Oh dear, more complications? Still have no idea what's going on?**

**If I'm being too obvious, please, feel free to tell me who Layton's look alike is! Anyone who can will be recognized in the notes of the next chapter, and will escape having a particularly nasty… well, Flora called it meal… showing up at their front door for reviewing!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for all of the reviews! Congratulations to the people who guessed the imposter's name: Hanaakarii, , and MouseMaster42. Also, kudos to nazo-nin, who guessed cousin, (which is pretty straight on, as you'll soon see) and Madi-Chan Dove, who I am currently swearing is a genius, as her guess… well… you'll see.**

**Enjoy the newest chapter!**

Chapter Six: Plans

Clive's head hurt. "I'm a little lost," he admitted.

Claire laughed. "I know it's confusing. But look. It's true."

Clive looked around for the twentieth time. "So… Rhonda bought your old house? I don't remember you living in such a large place."

"It is big, isn't it?" Claire asked, grinning ruefully. "I always liked big houses. Plus, I inherited it when my parents passed away. The first time I broke out, I came straight here, not realizing it would have been sold after my 'death'. Thankfully, Rhonda let me in and listened to my confusing tale, believed me, and here we are!"

"…You believed this?" Clive asked.

Rhonda grinned. "My sister's told me some stories at least this crazy."

"And your sister is?"

"Maybe you've heard of her. Emmy Altava?"

Clive choked on the tea someone had given him. "Emmy Altava is your sister?" He'd come across the name when finding information on Layton for his deception in Underground London, but he'd stopped looking into her after discovering she had fallen out of touch with the professor. But he'd done enough to know she was quite proficient in karate, photography, and fencing, and was not someone he wanted on his bad side.

He had no doubt that her sister was just as deadly.

"Didn't I just say that? Yes, I'm her older sister."

"Remind me not to get on your bad side," Clive said.

She grinned. " Yeah, you heard about Emmy's karate skills? I went into wrestling. And gymnastics. And Archery. And pole vaulting. You don't want to run into either of us in a dark alley."

Clive winced at the thought. "And you host your own radio show?"

Rhonda gave him a thumbs-up. "You should tune in sometimes. I do these ridiculous discussions, but I'm doing every voice. I do a live show every Friday at ten in the morning, and ninety percent of the time Emmy calls in to complain about various grammar mistakes I've made in the past week. I'd stop taking her calls, but the audience loves it. I've gotten many letters on the subject. Plus," she added after a moment, "it's where the Shadow Sisters got their start."

"The who?" Clive asked, not having any clue as to whom they were talking about.

"The Shadow Sisters. They're a pair of women who sing these amazing songs. No one has any idea who they are. They're rapidly rising to the top of the music business." Something in Claire's voice tipped him off as to exactly who those talented people were.

"You and Rhonda?" he guessed.

"Actually, I'm the second singer," a voice behind him admitted. He spun around in his chair to see the red haired woman calmly sipping a cup of tea.

Clive blinked before spinning back around towards Claire. "Anyone else here I should know about?"

"Oh, Dimitri's somewhere around here, I'm sure," she said cheerfully. "And I think that's about everything. We're going to go find Hershel today. Do you want to change? We bought you a pair of clothes and thought you could get some more when you 'woke up'."

Clive nodded wordlessly. Dimitri was here too? And Claire was well on her way to becoming a pop star?

His head really hurt.

He stood and left the dining room, aiming for the room he'd woken up in. Behind him, he heard Rhonda's soft voice.

"Has anyone ever told you how much you two look alike?"

Claire laughed, that same laugh he remembered from when he was a young boy. There had been one fact of his past Layton hadn't mentioned, one family member he'd lost in the blast he hadn't known was related.

"Didn't I tell you?" she asked. "Clive's my cousin."

xXx

After an hour of fighting to break the man's grip, being locked in a car trunk, being let out of the car trunk, trying again to break the man's grip, and soon finding himself in a mansion, Luke went limp. If he was going anywhere now, this man would be dragging him.

"Thank you for delivering him. You may go now."

Luke looked up at the awfully familiar voice.

Bill Hawks.

He was standing—no, he was _lying_—in the house of the prime minister.

"What do you want me for?" Luke demanded angrily as the other man let go of him and left.

Hawks was standing at the top of an ornately decorated staircase, smirking down at Luke. "Why do I want you? Why, my dear boy, I'm _adopting_ you."

Luke jumped to his feet immediately. "You are not, you murderous pig! I'm not staying under the same roof with _you_!" He finally understood where Clive had been coming from on his rampage. This man had killed his parents in cold blood!

Hawks continued to give that condescending little smirk. "I think you're going to, and you not going to raise any objections. After all, there's someone here you might be interested in… protecting."

"Father?"

The timid voice came from a door on Luke's left. A girl stepped through.

It was Flora.

Luke blinked, unable to say anything. Flora was okay!

She smiled brightly at Luke. "Oh, Father, is this the boy you were talking about? The boy who was coming to stay with us?"

"I'm going to adopt him, Felicity."

"Felicity?" Luke yelped, but the girl didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with the name.

"Yes, my name's Felicity," she said happily. "I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr.…"

"Luke. Luke Triton."

"Well, I'm Felicity Renard. Welcome. I'll show the room you'll be staying in—it's right next to mine!"

Luke shot a glare at Hawks before he left, a glare that would be classified under the there-is-absolutely-no-way-in-hell-I-am-letting-you-get-away-with-this section. Then he followed Flora (Felicity) down the hall.

After they were out of Hawks's sight, Luke ran to catch up with the girl. "Why'd you say your name was Felicity?"

She stopped walking and turned to look at him, confused. "Because my name is Felicity. I just told you that."

"…Right… And Hawks is your 'father'?"

"Yes. About a week ago he took me in. I'd lost my memory, you see, and… he's going to take care of me until things settle down. He also mentioned how he was going to take in a boy who'd just lost his parents. That's you right?"

Luke scowled. "Yeah, I lost my parents alright. Did you ask him how they died? Or who killed them? Or if he was the one wielding the weapon, or if he'd just paid someone to do it?"

Flora, for he was sure it was her, looked even more confused. "What are you talking about?"

"He killed my parents, Flora."

She shook her head, like she was shaking off an air of confusion. "My name's not Flora. It's Felicity. And Father is the nicest person you'll ever meet. He wouldn't hurt a fly."

She jabbed a finger in the direction of a nearby room. "That's where you're staying," she said flatly.

"Wait!" Luke cried desperately as she began to move away. "Don't you remember anything? The professor?"

She stiffened before slowly turning around. "Who?" Her voice was quivering.

"Professor Layton," Luke answered. If she couldn't remember, he had to _make_ her remember. "He took you in after your father passed away, Flora, don't you remember? We rescued you from the tower. Don't you remember the glider, Flora? Don't you remember St. Mystere?"

Flora shook her head, backing away. "Leave me alone…" she whispered helplessly, a tear beginning its journey down her face.

"Please, Flora," he begged. "Please, try. Your name's Flora Reinhold, remember?"

She spun around and sprinted for a room nearby his.

"PLEASE!" he cried again, but she was gone.

He sighed and headed for the room she'd pointed to before. It wasn't actually a bad room… really, it was nice.

But it wasn't his room. This wasn't his home.

His parents weren't there.

xXx

"We can do this," Emmy assured the professor. "Look, as long as they're in the same place…"

"So… if we enter here…" After an hour of spying on the house, they'd come up with a semi-accurate map of the outside.

Emmy pointed to a spot only a few feet away. "This one's out of camera range."

The professor sighed. Breaking and entering wasn't one of his talents. "What if…"

"What if what?"

His eyes glinted with the same look they did when he'd solved a difficult puzzle. "What if we were to approach this from a different direction?"

xXx

In the end, Clive wasn't elected to go find the professor. It was deemed too dangerous, as he was a wanted criminal and might spontaneously go insane.

Rhonda and Claire were going, though.

Clive sighed, taking the time to wander around the old house. He remembered how it used to look with sorrow, but that didn't mean he didn't like the way it currently looked. Most of the house had remained the same, but of course the obvious things (furniture, mostly) had changed.

He wandered into Dimitri after a while, and had an interesting discussion with him.

Then he'd remembered what the woman in the cell near him had said.

"_She left you a note._"

So Clive set out to find her.

He finally tracked her down. She was in the living room, fiddling with a necklace. However, when she saw him coming, she stuffed the necklace inside her shirt before he could get a good look at it.

"Hey," he said after a second, sinking into a chair across from her. "Did my mother really leave a note with you?"

Mystery nodded sadly. "She knew she wasn't going to live much longer, and one day slipped me a piece of paper and asked me to give it to you." She dug around in her pocket, finally removing a crumpled and dirty slip of paper. "I've held onto it for years."

Clive slowly took the paper and smoothed it out. It was difficult to read, but he'd manage…

_Clive-_

_I'm sorry I couldn't help you. I watched them torture you, but I couldn't help. I'm so sorry._

_Clive, if you haven't realized this by now, they've given you a rare form of Multiple Personality Disorder. I don't understand how they did it (twice), but they did. I had to watch. It was horrible. I never want you to go through anything like that ever again._

_I want you to know that, whatever happens to me, I love you. Your father loved you too. I want you to know that you'll always be our little boy, no matter what happens._

_I know you think I'm dead, and, by the time you read this, I probably will be, but there is something you need to know. The final call is yours, but I'd like you to know all the facts before you make your decision._

_Clive, I have just learned that you've been adopted by Constance Dove. Gloria Dove, the sadist who calls herself the head scientist here, is her daughter. I don't think that this is a coincidence, though I personally doubt that Constance is aware of it. From what I've heard, mother and daughter don't get along well at all, but Gloria may have arranged your adoption so she could keep an eye on you. For what, I don't know. But it worries me._

_I love you, Clive, and I hope that, despite these early setbacks, you'll grow up to be a wonderful young gentleman. Make me proud._

_-Mum_

Clive's breath caught in his throat. His adoption had been a set up? That was… awful.

He read the letter again. And again. And again. It wasn't until Mysti, annoyed, cleared her throat that he looked up.

"Sorry… It's just… my mum…"

Mysti nodded. "I know what it's like to lose a parent when you're young. I hardly remember my father."

"How young were you?" Clive asked.

"Oh, Jon and I were five when the scientists brought us to that place. We've lived there ever since." She waved her arm around at the room. "There's so much to get used to. You know, I had the most amazing thing in the world when I first got here."

Clive raised an eyebrow, curious. "What was it?"

"A miracle drink!" she laughed. "I think they called it 'tea'."

"Tea?" Clive started to laugh too. "You'll like Professor Layton, then. From what I've heard, he practically _lives_ off the stuff."

"Funny, Claire said that too."

Clive carefully folded the note from his mother and slipped it into his pocket. He would deal with that pain later. But not right now.

A sudden thought crossed his mind. "You know, Jon's a dead ringer for the professor. You don't think you could be related, do you?"

"You said his name was Layton?" she asked quietly. Clive noticed her hand slip up to where he knew the necklace lie under her shirt. "I don't know. Maybe. Once he's here, we could talk things over. If we are… maybe he knows who our parents are."

"But… theoretically… You guys couldn't be like… say… siblings or anything, could you?"

"No, I don't think so. I have vague memories of playing with another little boy, one who looked similar to Jon, but he wasn't my brother."

Clive took careful note of this.

xXx

Claire couldn't keep the smile off her face as she tightened her grip on Rhonda's coat.

Okay, sure, what she was doing was dangerous. Sure, it absolutely couldn't go wrong, because if it did there would be major problems. She knew all that. And yet…

She took another deep breath.

She felt… alive out here. It was different. And she was loving every second of it.

Because, for however temporarily, she was free.

It was almost worth dying several times to be sitting here, on Rhonda's motorcycle, on her way to see Hershel. She hadn't thought she'd ever see Hershel again, not after what had happened in London, not after ten and a half years of waiting, planning their next movement.

And yet, here she was.

This was their chance. They'd planned it for so long, it was hard to imagine it actually happening. But everything was going (for the most part) according to plan.

Unfortunately, all the plans were about to go up in smoke.

**Oh dear. You know what they say about perfectly laid plans… And yes, **_**everything**_** is about to go wrong. Now I just have to write about that.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Oh dear, everyone knows that plans never go perfectly. Ever. Especially plans made in the sixth chapter. And, because I'm nice and I couldn't leave you hanging like that, I figured that I'd better explain exactly what was meant when I said that all the plans would go up in smoke.**

**Thank you for pointing out exactly how literal that is, ViraLayton. Because I didn't actually notice that when I wrote it. But it is more than completely literal.**

**So, here's a new chapter before my school starts tomorrow. (Yikes, I'm going to high school! That still hasn't registered.) Enjoy!**

Chapter Seven: Because if Everything Went Perfectly, the Story would be Over

Rhonda gritted her teeth against the wind, knowing that she was probably breaking the speed limit. Oh well, if she got arrested, some… interesting things would happen.

Not necessarily things she wanted to happen, though.

She sighed, slowing slightly, though still going at least ten miles over the limit.

They arrived at Gressenheller. That was good. Rhonda pulled into the parking lot. She couldn't find a spot, so eventually just pulled up between two cars.

Once again, slightly illegal, but not something she'd be losing any sleep over.

Claire had gotten off even before the cycle had completely stopped and was already sprinting for the building.

It didn't take her too long to catch up, though.

They raced into the building… and realized they didn't have a clue where the room was.

"Do you know where you're going?" Rhonda asked.

Claire shook her head. "I haven't seen him in ten years… or wait, would that be six months? Well, he talked to me six months ago, but I haven't talked to him in ten years—oh, forget it. I've got no clue where the room is." She frowned, still muttering about the new mystery that had presented itself.

Rhonda sighed. "You're kidding me. Solve that puzzle later. Right now, focus on the puzzle of _where the hell his room is_."

"Well…" She thought for a long moment. "I think it's on a higher floor."

Twenty minutes of aimless wandering and odd glances later, they located the room.

Claire immediately burst out laughing.

"What?" Rhonda asked, not getting the joke.

"…Top hat…" she choked, pointing to the symbol on the door. "…He has a _top hat_ on his door…"

Rhonda frowned. "I don't get it."

"It's a top hat!" she repeated before taking a deep breath. "Right. Sorry. Do you think he's there?"

"Only one way to find out." Rhonda answered, knocking loudly on the door.

"Come in!" called a voice.

Claire pushed into the room. Her eyes widened.

Rhonda followed her. The room was neat and tidy, and there was a man sitting in the chair on the other side of the room. The man matched the description of Hershel Layton she'd gotten from Emmy (and from pictures in the paper) perfectly, from his long brown pants to his dark brown jacket to his insanely tall top hat.

Ah. That would be why Claire had been laughing earlier, right?

"What is it?" the professor asked, turning slightly to get a good look at them. Then he started and finished the turn so quickly his chair flipped over in the process.

Claire laughed. "Why are you always so clumsy?" she asked, running over to help him up.

"Claire?" he whispered.

Rhonda took a few steps closer to the happy couple.

"Hershel, put your hat back on," she scolded. "A gentleman never removes his hat—you know that as well as I do."

"Hershel?" he whispered.

A feeling of dread fell over Rhonda with the way he said those words.

Claire frowned, tilting his face to catch the light. A look of disbelief crossed her features. "No… No, no, no! What are you doing here? Where's Hershel?"

The man jumped to his feet. "Is that all the greeting I get? I've been working for weeks like this to get you out of there! And now all you want is him!"

"You've been impersonating him for weeks? But that wouldn't get us out at all! What were you thinking? Why? There's nothing to gain by impersonating Hershel Layton!"

The man caught the wrist she was swinging around. "Claire, he's the one behind it all."

"And who told you that?"

"The people who snuck me out of there!"

"Oh no… Who did that?"

The man paused for a moment. "Well… I know that the leader was named Hawks. Bill Hawks."

"Dang it! You've been working for him? Jon, he's the prime minister! He's also the one who stuck me in there! He killed me that first time! Hershel was the only one who might stand a chance at stopping him! Where is he?"

Rhonda frowned, not following the conversation. "…Jon?" she asked, knowing the name was familiar.

The man, whose name was apparently Jon, turned to face her. "Claire," he finally managed, "what's going on?"

Claire growled. "Jon, this is Rhonda, the friend I was telling you about. Rhonda, this is Mysti's idiot brother."

Rhonda gave a half hearted wave. Their plans were all crash landing. "What's going on?"

"If my theory is correct, and I've spent far too much time with Hershel for it not to be, Jon was snuck out of the facility. There's a possibility that some of his memories were erased. He was told by Bill that he'd rescued him, and he was interested in assisting with our escape as well, but he needed help. And Jon was told to impersonate Professor Layton. And, being an idiot, he did it."

"That's pretty much it," Jon admitted. "Really, I don't know how this guy lives. I don't think I did a very good job… Oh, and I was supposed to take a pair of children to Hawks."

Claire jumped. "Two kids? A girl with brown hair in a pony tail and a boy in blue?"

"I think that's right…"

Claire cursed. "Right, what was he going to do with them?"

"…I think he was going to adopt them…"

Claire cursed again.

Rhonda raised an eyebrow-she'd never seen Claire like this before.

"Right!" Claire suddenly cried. "Come with me. We've got to hurry."

"To do what?" Rhonda asked, confused.

"Luke and Flora—you know, the two children who follow Hershel around? His daughter and apprentice? Hawks is obviously holding them hostage, and we're getting them out of there."

"Wonderful," Rhonda sighed. "Do you want to take my motorcycle or Jon/Professor Layton's car?"

xXx

The real Professor Layton was trying to calm his nerves over a cup of tea. It wasn't working.

"You do realize how completely insane this is, don't you?" Emmy asked him.

He chuckled. "Of course I do. But it's the only thing that might work."

"Not exactly moral boosting," Emmy grumbled.

"Were you hoping for a big speech?"

"No… just something a little more… concrete."

A smile flicked across his lips. "You know, this reminds me of a puzzle…"

Emmy grinned, slipping into the chair across the table from him. "Ah, Professor, there you are."

"That makes you feel better?"

"I can recognize someone who offers up puzzles at the worst possible moments much better than I can recognize someone shivering in his seat while drinking tea."

Professor Layton frowned. "I'm shivering?"

"Yep. Deep breaths. Really, professor, there's no need to worry. This can't go wrong!"

"No… I suppose it can't, can it…"

xXx

They took Jon's car.

Really, they only took it because there was no way all three of them could fit on Rhonda's motorcycle, let alone another two children. Rhonda, however, was completely against leaving her motorcycle in such a place—she may have occasionally broken the law, but to leave her motorcycle there was like asking for a ticket—and drove in front of the car.

Jon had been forced over into the passenger's seat when Claire discovered that he still struggled to drive the car and didn't actually own a license. She followed Rhonda as closely as she could, which was easier than it sounded, even on the busiest streets.

No one got in Rhonda's way.

"That's it!" Jon finally cried, pointing to an elegant house that took up most of the street.

"Never would have guessed," Claire muttered, parking with ease.

None of them noticed an identical car parked just down the street from them.

xXx

They sat in silence for several moments, the professor working up the courage to go in.

"You'll do perfectly," Emmy tried to assure him.

The professor chuckled nervously. "I have no doubt that I can pull this off, and yet… I'm not used to lying to people."

Emmy gasped in mock surprise. "You mean the great Hershel Layton has never stretched the truth?"

He gave her an apologetic smile. "I suppose I have, once or twice. But only when the circumstance calls for it."

Emmy gestured at the fancy house. "Calling loudly enough for you?"

The professor nodded grimly. "I do believe this is a necessary measure. Be ready to flag them down when they come out."

"Of course I will." Emmy looked away—was she blushing? "Professor…"

The professor paused, his hand on the door. "Yes?"

She was definitely blushing now. "Just… be sure to come back, okay? Because if you don't, I'm going to have to go in there and rescue you. And I doubt that the public will take kindly to the prime minister being assaulted."

The professor smiled at the mental image. "Don't worry, Emmy, I'll be very careful."

He stepped out of the car and headed for the house, still nervous.

He rang the doorbell.

Now, the first thought that comes to someone's mind when they want to break in is that they want to be as inconspicuous as possible. Therefore, ringing the doorbell is completely idiotic. However, in this case, the professor was relying on the fact that doing such a thing would make him look inconspicuous. Plus, it wasn't entirely his intention to just break in…

The door was answered by a butler.

"Hello," the professor said cheerfully. "I was called about a bathroom?"

It was difficult speaking around the false mustache Emmy had insisted he wear. In addition, he was wearing a dark green jumpsuit. Emmy was all for him going just like that, but he'd finally put his foot down and demanded some sort of hat, which was why he was also wearing a red cap.

It was an awkward outfit, to say the least.

The butler look slightly confused. The professor held his breath. This part was a bit of a gamble. There was a chance that he wouldn't be let in, and they'd have to go to plan B—which involved Emmy, a long metal pole, and a dart gun.

They both hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"Well, no one's said anything to me. Of course, they never do. Come on in, I'll show you to the bathroom."

Professor Layton let out a small sigh of relief and let the man lead him through the halls.

When they reached it, he pretended to be busy for a second until the man left. Then he straightened and reached for his bag.

Even if the bag had been searched, it was perfectly appropriate for a plumber to carry a blow torch (mostly for welding pipes). However, this was not what the professor intended to use it for.

With a quick glance over his shoulder, he searched his bag for the paper towels he'd stuffed in. (Once again, hardly conspicuous.) Now, the only question that remained was where he should do it.

There was a smoke alarm in this bathroom, he realized with relief. That made life a lot easier.

A second later, he was lighting the paper towels. Now he would have to move quickly to avoid getting burned.

The professor had never done anything like this before. But really, how hard could it be?

He climbed onto the closed toilet seat to get closer to the smoke alarm and began waving the fistful of paper towels under it.

Because he hadn't lit them for the flames, he had lit them for the _smoke_.

The alarm began to wail, and as it started, so did every other one in the house.

He grinned. Everyone would be dropping everything and running out of the house. Pandemonium, perfect for rescuing two children.

With that, he shoved the blow torch into his bag and doused the burning paper in the sink. Perhaps Hawks would figure out what he'd done if he left it there, but it didn't really matter.

He sighed. Perhaps it was time to forget the papers he'd signed and take Hawks to court. But not until everyone was safe.

He snatched his bag and sprinted for the doors, joining the mass of people on the lawn.

But where were Luke and Flora?

The professor searched the crowd desperately, amid the shouts of the maids on the front lawn.

He didn't see him.

xXx

_Fire._

She dropped everything she was holding, bolting from her room. The boy, Luke, burst out from his room down the hall.

"This way!" he called, motioning.

She shuddered. What was it about those words? Something…

The last thing she remembered was falling into someone's arms.

xXx

Luke caught Flora before she hit the floor and growled a word he was sure the professor wouldn't approve of under his breath. This wasn't good.

Why was it that he always had to escape from something falling or burning? Usually with the professor.

Wait a second…

He struggled to lift Flora for a second, but managed, making his way to the door.

Then he tripped sideways.

His head smashed into the wall, but he staggered forward, determined to make it out.

After all, that was what a gentleman did. Rescue fair maidens in danger.

Luke finally dragged himself out the front door, still wobbling slightly. It was hard to make anything out. He went a good ways from the house, making sure they were out of harm's way before he laid Flora on the ground.

Then he remembered: she had fainted. It would be good for someone to look at her, a doctor. He had to find out.

Luke stood up, shaking his head to try and clear it as he made his way to the huge crowd not far away.

"Is there a doctor?" he cried. "Someone fainted!"

However, his shouts made no difference, as the air was filled with the cries from everyone else.

"Luke?"

Someone clamped a hand on his shoulder. Luke spun around, trying to remember the few self defense lessons Emmy had given him—not many. There was a man there, a man in a green suit with a red cap and brown mustache.

And there was something about him…

The man ducked down and lowered his voice. "Luke, we need to find Flora and get out of here."

Luke jumped. It was the professor! "Professor?" The man nodded. "She's over here, she fainted and I had to carry her out, but she can't remember anything! She doesn't remember us, she thinks her name's Felicity!"

The professor nodded grimly. "Let's get her and get out of here."

Luke quickly led him over to where he'd last seen Flora, but she wasn't there. After ten minutes of searching, they gave up.

Flora Reinhold had disappeared.

xXx

Her head hurt. Really badly. Where was she?

She struggled to open her eyes. Someone was staring down at her.

Someone familiar.

She let out a little shriek, pushing back against the bed she was in. This man was someone scary, someone who had…

What had he done? Something about impersonating…

Dimitri, that was his name. Dimitri Allen. And she _knew_ him from somewhere.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

Concern? Why had he been worried about her?

"We found you passed out. Are you feeling better?"

For the first time, she noticed her surroundings. "Where… where am I?"

"You're in a house near the Thames," came a voice from the door, a voice similar to someone she knew, but still unidentifiable.

Who was she?

This question suddenly sprang to mind. She wasn't entirely sure. What was her name?

It all came rushing back to her at once.

She was Flora Reinhold, like the boy—no, like _Luke_—had said. And though she had once feared Dimitri, he wasn't nearly as fearsome now. Plus, if he was here, he must have rescued her.

She still didn't know the woman in the doorway, though.

"I have to find the professor," she mumbled, sitting up.

"You can help us—we need to find him too," Dimitri said quickly. "It's essential to the plan we're forming."

"What plan?" snorted the woman from the doorway.

Dimitri rolled his eyes. "The plan that ultimately ends in the discrediting and preferably long prison sentencing of Bill Hawks."

A small smile graced Flora's lips. "I think I can get on board with that," she said quietly. "But first, you need to tell me exactly where we are and what's going on."

Dimitri stuck out a hand for her to shake. "I think we can do business. Now, how would you like to come downstairs and meet everyone else?"

**Oh good, Flora has her memory back. And more complete disaster is coming…**


	9. Chapter 9

**Oh dear, this one's shorter than normal. I'm sorry. It's mostly a filler, and nothing was happening, and I wanted to get on to the next chapter which will be hilarious. Once again, I'm sorry. The next one will be longer.**

**Hanaakarii, the professor was not Mario. Mario doesn't wear a green jumpsuit. And the whole unnecessary plumber was an ungotten joke to one of my friends: "Do you need a plumber?"**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter Eight: Radio Waves

That morning had started with the cheerful question of if Flora wanted to come with Rhonda, Claire, and Mysti to work that day and see what they were doing. She had immediately agreed, as it was better than sitting around for another day.

It had been two days since she'd been brought to Rhonda's house, and currently no one had any idea of what had happened to the professor. They'd scouted his house, but apparently there'd been no signs of activity at all. No one had come to the house.

Which pretty much meant that they had no clue where the professor was.

Which was bad.

"So, what exactly do you guys do here?" Flora asked as Rhonda let the four of them into her office. Claire and Mystery had led her through a path without cameras, simply because the popularity of the Shadow Sisters was picking up, and there was a huge contest going on to discover their identities.

"I told you I have a radio show," Rhonda answered. "I do the recording here. I think I'm going to have to get equipment to record Claire and Mysti at my house soon, because it's getting harder and harder to sneak in here."

"Stupid fans," Mysti muttered. "How can I be a popular musician? Last week, you had to explain the use of a microphone to me."

"I think it's a bit more important that I had to explain the use of a toilet, but whatever you think. And apparently you can be a popular musician."

Flora smiled at the banter. "So I get to witness your amazing recording today?"

"Like I said, it's getting harder and harder to sneak the Shadow Sisters in here. So today, we're going to record Friday's music. The show's live on Friday, but I don't want people breaking in to speak with the famed Shadow Sisters."

"You said people call in?" Flora asked. "What if someone calls in to speak with the Shadow Sisters?"

"Ah." Rhonda grinned. "That's the wonder of speaker phones."

Mysti laughed at this. "Come on, Rhonda, we've been practicing this song for too long. I can't wait to start the recording."

"I just hope he hears it," Claire muttered.

Rhonda ushered the two of them into a sound proof room with microphones and headphones. "Right, just do it like we usually do. You have your music, right?"

"Memorized," Claire answered happily. "This is the best song ever written."

"Well, I don't know about that…" Rhonda mumbled, embarrassed. "It is pretty good, though, isn't it?"

"He better figure it out," Mysti muttered.

"He will," Claire promised, entering the room. "Let's just get started."

Rhonda shut them in and showed Flora where she was working. "See, I need to work the equipment to get a good sound from them, and then layer it over the accompaniment I recorded awhile ago."

"That sounds hard," Flora admitted, taking a seat and sliding on a pair of headphones so she could hear them recording. "How do you do that?"

"Oh, I already have the accompaniment, so I just play it over the speakers in there. That way, Mysti and Claire just have to sing along." Rhonda took her seat in front of the many buttons, dials, and switches. She leaned forward to a microphone, pressing a red button near her. "Alright, we're about to start. You two ready?"

The vocalists both gave her a thumbs up through the glass.

"Right," Rhonda muttered, leaning back and flipping another switch. "You'll enjoy this, Flora. There are… maybe five people in London who would get this—six if you count me. And that includes you. So I think this is a message we're pretty safe sending out."

"A message?" Flora asked in confusion as the singing began. Claire started alone.

"_Did you know… I'm still waiting for you…_

"_At that place by the riverside…_

"_Where we met… Once before…_

"_When there was something to hide…"_

Mysti joined in on the second verse.

"_Because I'm sure that you remember…_

"_That little riverside place…_

"_Where we met when the answer to everything lie_

"_In the Old Father's Embrace,_

"_That riverside place!"_

Flora started laughing as she realized the message they were sending. "I thought I recognized the location of that house! It's where Clive built the Thames Arms in Future London, isn't it?"

Rhonda nodded. "You see, Claire and Clive are cousins. Clive remembered this place from his childhood and opted for that location as the Family's hideout. Claire noticed this, and passed the message of 'the Old Father's Embrace'. I think she only noticed it because of the fact that she went to check it out as her house originally stood there. And it comes full circle."

"…We're really lucky, aren't we?" Flora asked.

Rhonda nodded, turning her attention back to the song as it began to wrap up.

"_A little haven of safety, little cave of protection_

"_Just a little place to hide…_

"_So I wait, and I wait, and I wait, and I wait for you_

"_Down by the riverside!"_

Claire held out the last note with Mystery harmonizing as the song reached its end. The last chord sent a chill down Flora's spine—it was minor and sounded eerie.

Flora jumped to her feet, applauding. Rhonda flipped a switch to stop the recording and joined in the applause before suddenly stopping.

"What is it?" Flora asked as Rhonda facepalmed.

"Soundproof. They can't hear the applause…" She removed her headphones as Flora stopped clapping and Claire and Mysti left the recording room. They appeared a second later through the door Flora and Rhonda had come through.

"Did we do it?" Mysti asked eagerly.

"It was perfect," Rhonda answered. "On the first time through, too! Now, who wants to hear the recording?"

xXx

They had lost her.

That was the only thought going through everyone's head.

They had lost her.

Emmy and the professor managed to keep up a cheerful appearance, mostly for Luke's benefit. Luke was upset, but not nearly as much as before. Before he'd had no one—now he had both the professor and Emmy.

He told them what had happened to him and why he was there. It was hard to believe, but the adults both accepted it as fact.

But, more importantly, Flora was gone.

They had kept up surveillance on Hawk's house, but there'd been no sign of Flora, even after two days.

Finally, Emmy delivered the verdict they'd all been worried for.

"She's not there, and Hawks doesn't have her."

This worried them all, for if Hawks didn't have Flora, who did?

xXx

"What's your necklace?" Clive asked, dunking another dish into the soapy water.

Mystery froze. "I… I don't know what you're talking about."

"I saw you wearing it earlier, and I was wondering why you didn't want me to see it," he explained.

Mystery was silent for a long moment, but soon returned to helping him wash the dishes. They had been assigned dinner-clean-up duty that night. The schedule rotated, but since they were alone and he'd remembered, he'd taken the chance to ask her about her necklace.

"I think my father gave it to me. It used to be my mother's," Mysti finally said quietly. "I think it might be family crest or something. No one knows I have it, not even Jon. Maybe after this is all over, I can use it to find my family."

Clive smiled. "Hey, I wish I could get my family back as easily as that."

Mysti snorted. "Easily? You've got to be kidding me. How many people actually have a family crest, let alone know of others?"

"Really? That sounds awfully accurate for someone who spent her entire life in a cell. Who gave you that tidbit?"

"Claire."

Clive nodded thoughtfully. "But at least you will be able to track them down. You will have a family. Mine's dead."

"Ours might be too," Mysti pointed out. "We've got no clue. Though I may have been exaggerating the difficulty. Claire said she recognized it, and could help me find a relative she swears is still living."

"I hope you find them," Clive told her honestly. "I think you'll like having a family."

Mystery smiled and put away the last dish. "Hey, Rhonda's show is on, if you're interested."

"Are you kidding me? They've been talking about that song all week!"

xXx

Friday morning was uneventful. Breakfast was made, eaten, and cleaned up. Books were read.

At ten, like she did every Friday, Emmy went to turn on the radio.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, neither the professor nor Luke was listening to the live showing. Ten minutes into the show, Emmy made her weekly call, pointing out all the grammar mistakes made in the last ten minutes, which she knew was something her sister's audience loved.

But the song went unnoticed.

***sighs* Yes, they missed it. Of course they did. But that's okay, because they'll eventually hear it. Just not until I feel like enough disaster has struck… **


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey, look, another chapter! Some randomness before the plot starts picking up again… Lunch, Chess, Cluelessness, Awkwardness, April Fools Day, Some Explanations, and a Cemetery! That actually pretty much sums it all up…**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter Nine: Lunch

"So, I won't be gone long," Emmy promised, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "I'm really sorry to leave you and all, but my sister and I have been meeting for lunch every week for years. If I don't go, she'll get suspicious."

"It's fine, Emmy," the professor assured her. "Really, it's amazing you're allowing two people the prime minister is after stay here."

Emmy snorted. "What am I going to do, kick you out? Professor, it's really no trouble having you here. Plus…" She nodded in the direction of the kitchen. "It's worth it. You're the only one who can make tea like that."

He laughed, waving as she left the house before turning to go make himself and Luke some lunch.

xXx

Rhonda walked into the dining room, which was filled with all of the other people occupying the house. It was lunch time, and Claire had laid out a sandwich spread, along with various fruits and vegetables.

"Ooh, pomegranate!" she laughed, snatching a handful of the seeds and skillfully launching one into the air to land in her mouth. She repeated the motion twice.

"Rhonda."

Claire was frowning at her. "I thought you had lunch with your sister on Saturday."

"…Oh crap, I do." Rhonda shoved the rest of the seeds in her mouth and sprinted for the door. "I'll be back later! Try to keep yourselves entertained in a non-violent and un-destructive way!"

The door slammed shut, leaving a very confused group of wanted criminals behind.

"Non-violent?" Jon finally asked. "Who does she think she's talking to?"

"Yeah," Clive agreed. "I thought I said that I _needed_ to blow something up after lunchtime."

Flora rolled her eyes, reaching for another slice of bread. "Very funny."

"Seriously, though, what should we do?" Jon asked.

There was a moment of silence.

"We could play a game," Mysti suggested warily.

"Any particular game?" Dimitri asked.

"What was that one you were playing with Clive earlier? The one with the black and white squares?"

"I'll go get the cards," Claire told everyone else.

"You mean Chess?" Dimitri asked.

"I think so…"

"Hearts?" Jon suggested eagerly.

"We need a four person game, Jon…"

"Right, the Chess board is over here. Have you ever played before?"

Mysti shook her head, taking her place across from Dimitri. "What are these horsey things?"

xXx

Emmy was already sitting at their usual table when Rhonda arrived.

"Hey, sorry I'm late." She seemed nervous as she slid into her seat.

"No problem," Emmy said easily, attempting a smile. It came out shaky.

Rhonda picked up the menu and practically hid behind it, trying to calm down. "So, what's new with you?"

"Oh, you know, nothing really."

Rhonda, finally calming down enough to think, frowned and lowered her menu. "You know, you always have something to talk about."

It was Emmy's turn to hide behind the menu. "Well, not this week, I guess. Nothing's happened."

"You've memorized the menu. We eat here every week."

Emmy threw down the menu in a huff. "Well, maybe you'd like to explain to me why you were just hiding behind it a moment ago!"

"I-I wasn't…"

"Rhonda, we've never kept anything from each other. What's wrong?"

"I could ask you the same thing!"

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, glaring across the table at each other. It was finally broken when a waitress came to take their order.

"A small French Dip," Rhonda told her.

"The usual," Emmy said to the waitress, recognizing her.

The waitress nodded, giving them a quick smile as she dashed off to the kitchen, feeling the obvious hostility in the air.

"So…" Emmy began after another long moment. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"There's nothing to tell," Rhonda snapped. "Are you going to tell me what's going on with you?"

Emmy looked down at the table. "I have some old friends staying with me," she mumbled.

Rhonda looked away. "Yeah, I can understand why you're stressed. Actually, a couple of friends from college are staying with me for a bit. Some of them are… a handful."

The two sisters sat there for a long moment, one of the most awkward they'd ever shared. Rhonda finally broke the silence with a small cough.

"So, who do you have staying over?"

"Oh, just a few old friends of mine. No one important."

Rhonda, desperate to change the subject to anything else, leapt at her chance. "Did they hear my show?"

"I think they were reading," Emmy responded honestly.

"Hey, you should get them to check it out sometime. You know, the Shadow Sisters have really been picking up in popularity."

"Really? That's great! People are trying to solve the mystery of their identities, aren't they?"

"Oh, the identity thing is huge," Rhonda answered, chuckling at her sister's choice of words. "They were on the news last night. Apparently no one has any idea as to their identity, and it's making them really popular. A mystery with singers! What could be cooler?"

"Solving said mystery," Emmy answered, grinning. "Hey, you record them. You must know who they are."

Rhonda gave an over dramatic sigh. Luckily, this was a lie she was completely prepared for, as she'd been giving the same story to callers over and over. "Actually, I have no idea. When the two women came in, they gave me the first recordings and asked if I wanted them on my show. They were wearing masks. I have no clue who they are, though I really wish I did."

"I was hoping you had just told that to appease the fans," Emmy admitted.

"Lie to my fans?" Rhonda gasped. "I would never!"

"Sure you wouldn't," Emmy teased. "Except in your big April Fool's fiasco two years ago."

"That wasn't my fault!" Rhonda protested. "When people call in they often give their addresses! It would be criminal to never use that information in a hilarious way!"

"Still, do you think rubber potatoes were the way to go?"

Rhonda started laughing. "Oh, geez, the _calls_ I got!"

"I called in about a dozen of those," Emmy murmured thoughtfully. "No one ever gave you their address again."

"That was probably smart of them," Rhonda chuckled, reaching for her glass of water.

"Still, they were complaining for a month!"

"Completely worth it. Honestly, my show is a comedy! I can't believe people didn't look at the date! 'Potatoes of Death'… Honestly!"

Emmy lost it again at her sister's expression, relived to be off the topic of her house guests.

"You know, they've been giving me the addresses again…" Rhonda began thoughtfully.

"Oh no, not again!"

Rhonda grinned wickedly. "Hey, if they're stupid enough to believe it, they deserve to get fooled. While one half of my audience is sending me angry letters, the other half is rolling on the floor, in tears from laughing so much."

"Just promise me that you'll play some of those calls on the air this time. They were hilarious!"

Rhonda did a perfect imitation of one of the caller's voices. "Miss Altava, if you ever pull something like that again, I'll have to stop listening to your show! You nearly gave me a heart attack, and I feel like you're intruding on our privacy sending us stuff like that!"

Emmy was struggling to breathe she was laughing so hard. "Those potatoes…"

"That hoax was so perfect. I think it rivals the spaghetti tree farce."

"Hmm… Spaghetti…"

Rhonda snorted. "I already did food. But I'll come up with something interesting, I promise."

"I have no doubt you will, Rhonda. I have no doubt you will."

xXx

Mystery had just been beaten for the thirty-second time in chess. This game had taken a little longer, as she'd successfully blocked both the two-move kill and the four-move kill for the first time.

She lasted for ten turns.

At the other side of the table, Jon had just swept them all at poker—they'd been playing for Jellybeans, which Jon found incredibly amazing and kept eating—again. He was really good at reading people.

"This is getting a little old," Mystery laughed, flipping over her king.

"You know, I've been wondering," Dimitri began. "You weren't brought to that place until you were five, correct?"

Mysti nodded. "Yeah, that's what they said."

"Do you remember anything before that?"

Mysti was silent for a long moment. Jon finally spoke up from the other end of the table.

"I remember this boy." He fell silent for another moment before realizing the others wanted to know more. "Oh, I don't know who he was. But I remember laughing and playing games with him. Mysti always wanted to play tag, but whenever he played, he'd end up staring at something, deep in thought. I guess that's a little odd for a kid that age, huh?"

"The child would have to have advanced mental capabilities," Dimitri agreed thoughtfully. "The very fact that you remember that…"

"Dimitri, I told you, I already have a theory on that," Claire interrupted. "Actually, it's a bit more than a theory. I'm ninety-five percent sure I'm right."

Flora perked up. "What theory?"

"The theory of the Three Keys," Claire answered dramatically. "Honestly, when I first came up with it, I think they had me on some drug. Later, I stole some of their papers. Everything matches up, but I'm still not sure."

"So…" Flora encouraged eagerly.

"Alright, I know it sounds insane. But listen to the entire thing before you write me off as crazy.

"The place we were being held was a building owned by Genesis. It's a huge company—the same one that paid Hawks to use the time machine. For many years, they've been at the top of the scientific community, but it's likely that no one who's not a scientist has heard of them.

"Genesis has always been secretive, working to market their products under different names. People have always wondered how they stayed so ahead of the game, and, as you may have guessed, that's something that we now know for sure—for years, secretly, Genesis has been illegally experimenting on humans.

"When I first talked to Jon, I almost immediately found myself trusting him. As you can see by the stack of Jellybeans currently in front of him, he's good at reading people—he can just tell what they're feeling, how to act towards them. Some would claim mind reading, but I came up with something much more likely.

"Mysti seemed a bit harder to understand. I didn't find myself trusting her as quickly. Over a period of time, however, I realized that she slept less than usual. At first I put that down as a side effect of living a cell, but soon I realized she was generally very active, even in a cell. She would hang from the cell bars when she was bored, lifting herself up on the vertical bars, sometimes with one hand. It seemed unusual to say the least, not to mention the fact that she has red hair and violet eyes, very much contrasting her brother.

"When I stole the papers, I found that about thirty years ago, give or take, Genesis had given pills to the wife of a man working there. He, along with another group of scientists, had been working on a treatment to begin the next human evolution."

"Evolution?" Dimitri demanded.

"Evolution?" Clive echoed.

Claire gave them a sad smile. "Yes. The treatment focused on three areas of a person—the mental area, the social area, and the physical area. Unfortunately for the scientist, the family decided to back out, realizing what would happen to their child. And, unfortunately for the treatment, there was a fire not long after that burned all the information on it. Currently, no one knows what it was. Fate also decided to throw a wrench in the mix, as the parents gave birth, not to one child, as hoped, but to triplets, who evenly distributed the traits among them."

"But we don't have another sibling," Mysti argued.

"That's true," Claire agreed. "It doesn't seem like you do, but you do have memories of another child…"

"But he didn't live with us," Jon suddenly remembered. "He lived next door!"

Claire gasped. "Are you sure? Are you absolutely positive?"

Jon nodded slowly.

Claire frowned for a second, staring at the table before realization dawned on her.

"Of course…" she whispered. "It's perfect, so brilliant, hiding it in plain sight…" She stood up from her chair, not bothering to push it in as she dashed for the door. "I'll be back later! I need to check something!"

Immediately everyone else in the room was on their feet.

"What is it?" Dimitri asked.

She waved her hand. "It'll be quick, I promise, but I need to hurry. Sooner I leave, sooner I'm back, right?"

"What is it?" Dimitri repeated.

Claire rolled her eyes. "Fine. If you're so insistent, Flora can come with me."

"Why Flora?" Mysti demanded.

"Because I'm not wanted by anyone—Jon might be a little odd, as he doesn't know his way anywhere, and two mysterious woman running through the street might make people think of the Shadow Sisters," Flora answered, seeing Claire's logic. "Alright, I'll come. Where are we going?"

"The cemetery," Claire answered matter-of-factly as Flora pulled on her shoes. "Like I said, there's something I need to check."

xXx

Luke sighed.

He wasn't bored exactly. It was nice to finally be out and about.

It had taken a whole lot of begging on his part to finally convince the professor to let him go for a walk, thought he had insisted on him keeping to the quieter streets.

Well, there was no quieter place than here.

He took a deep breath, appreciating the fresh air. It was beautiful out, a beautiful day.

And yet…

He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. It might have had something to do with the fact that he was in the cemetery, but he didn't think so.

No, it was something more.

Voices caught his attention. That was odd, it was usually silent in the middle of the cemetery at least, as sometimes noise from the outside slipped in on the edges.

So what…

Luke changed his direction toward the voices, beginning to pick up on what they were saying.

"Of course! I knew it! It makes sense!"

The voice was vaguely familiar, but impossible…

"I'm confused. This tombstone is from thirty years ago, so why…"

That voice he knew, and the very sound of it made him start running.

He reached the top of the hill, took a moment to study the impossible scene, then ducked behind the nearest tombstone.

Had he really just seen Flora? She was okay?

And who was that with her? It couldn't be Claire, could it? He could easily be mistaken, having only seen her once.

He chanced another glance. He had to be hallucinating. That was Claire. That was impossible…

But he could see her, he could see Flora, and, most importantly, he could see the figures in the shadows behind her.

**Oh dear, shady figures. That leads to nothing but trouble… Will they finally be reunited?**

**What do you think? This is only… Wow, Chapter Nine, that's more than I thought.**

**Oh, and soon I'm going to instill one of these characters with a complete phobia of something. I think I have a pretty good one, but hey, if anyone has any suggestions, I'd love to hear them.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Because I promised…**

**Ooh, lookie here, insanity! And it looks like we finally get a few more answers!**

Chapter Ten: Someone Gets Shot

Luke tried to calm down. So Flora was in the graveyard with a dead woman, and people were stalking them. That was bad.

Why was she with Claire? How could she be with Claire? Wasn't Claire dead? How did that make any sense whatsoever?

Back to the immediate problem. He could deal with the… well, she certainly didn't _appear_ to be a vampire or zombie, but if she was dead… What did that make her?

Okay. Now back to the immediate problem. He could deal with the… professor's undead girlfriend later. For now he had to focus on the fact that they were being followed by a pair of menacing figures.

What should he do? What could he do?

xXx

"I was right," Claire whispered excitedly, pointing at the tombstone. "Don't you see?"

Flora frowned, leaning in. "Not really. All I can really see is the fact that the name on the tombstone is Hershel Layton. And I don't really see what that has to do with anything."

"Did Hershel ever tell you about his family?" Claire asked after a moment.

Flora shook her head.

"Well, his mother was named Elizabeth. His father was named William. The only other family he had were an aunt and an uncle on his mother's side. His aunt, his mother's sister, was named Celia, and her husband was named James. They had two children—he has pictures, but I don't remember their names."

Flora suddenly looked closer. "This tombstone is in the Layton part of cemetery!" she realized. "It's with the other people you mentioned."

"Yes, his father, uncle, and both cousins died in a car crash on the same day. He was the only survivor—miraculously without any injuries. It all fits!"

"I don't follow you."

Claire stalked over to a nearby tombstone while she gestured to the one they had been looking at. "Check the dates."

Flora took another look. "Wait a second… His death and birthday are the same day. He must have been a miscarriage or something."

"Check the date again. Familiar, no?"

"…It's the professor's birthday."

"Exactly!" The tombstone Claire had walked to was heavily overgrown, but she still ripped through the vines so she and Flora could read the inscription. "There!" she cried triumphantly, jabbing a finger at it. "I was right! Of course! It all makes sense!"

Flora mouth fell open as she scanned the stone. "_Here lie Mystery and Jonathan Layton, two of the sweetest children in the world. They came into the world together and went out together. They will always be loved…_"

"I knew I recognized that necklace," Claire muttered. "Hershel told me it was a family tradition—the men in the family would always carve wooden necklaces with the family symbol on it for the women of the family."

"Necklace?"

"Mysti has a necklace she thinks her father gave her. I think it's a necklace like that."

"I'm still confused."

"Okay, I'll try to break this down. You see, Hershel told me he was born on the same day as his cousins…"

She never got to finish that sentence—something small and bullet shaped whipped past her face and buried itself a little ways into the tombstone.

That was bad.

She and Flora spun around to see the two men with guns advancing on them.

"Run!" Claire shouted, already putting the plan into action.

Flora spun around and sprinted away from the men, up the hill. Claire had taken a different path, hoping they would follow her, or at least split up to give Flora a better chance at getting away.

They split up.

Flora reached the top of the hill and glanced around, unsure of where to run next.

Someone grabbed her wrist.

She gasped, starting to pull away until she realized who was tugging her in another direction.

"This way!" Luke hissed.

Luke was here. Flora sudden felt relieved. Luke was here and everything was going to be okay.

Then another bullet—this one whistling strangely—whipped past her face.

Maybe not everything would be okay.

Luke tugged her hand again and she followed him willingly, both now sprinting for their lives. Luke led her from the cemetery and through a series of winding alleys. She was suddenly glad he had lived in London for so long—someone who didn't know their way around this part of town (like her, for example) would easily get lost in the maze of paths.

They still hadn't set eyes upon a soul.

After twenty minute of running, Luke finally slowed down, leaning against a building and gasping for breath. Flora copied him, exhausted and wondering how she'd meet up with Claire now.

Luke let go of Flora's hand.

"Did we lose him?" she whispered.

"I think so…" Luke answered, trying to keep his voice calm.

The man chose that moment to barrel around the corner, gun outstretched. Luke heard as the man fired twice.

"Come on!" Luke cried as he and Flora took off again, Flora uttering a little cry.

He took the lead again, through the maze of alleys. The brick walls all looked the same, but he had memorized his way through years ago (at the professor's urging, ironically, who insisted that all true gentlemen must know every inch of the city they call home).

The only way to lose this man was to weave a path so complex…

"Luke…"

He barely heard her say it, but he turned around. Flora had slowed considerably, and was hunching over, panting. "Luke… tell…"

She fell to her knees before falling forward.

"Flora!" Luke cried, ducking down next to her. "Flora!"

Only now did he see the red spot growing on her back.

"Luke…" she whispered again. "Tell… tell the professor… the Faceless Twins… he has to find the Faceless Twins…"

She took a deep breath before slowly closing her eyes.

"Flora!" he screamed. She couldn't be dead. It was impossible. Flora was not dead. She just couldn't be.

But then why wasn't she moving?

"FLORA!"

She continued to lay unmoving on the pavement.

He was afraid to check for a pulse, afraid to confirm what he already knew.

Flora… she was dead…

"FLORA!"

The man must have hit her with the bullet when he'd caught up with them, but she'd kept running anyways…

Running, because if she stopped, she knew he'd stop, and then the man would catch them. Running…

"Flora…"

The tears began to run down his face, tumble to the ground, splash there, sit there… He cried harder than when he'd found out about his parents, after all, they'd known how he'd felt…

There was only one thing circling his mind.

_You'll never know… You'll never know how I feel…_

"Flora…"

The man sprinted around the corner, but Luke didn't look up.

"I've got you now," he chuckled.

Luke still wasn't able to move. He didn't even flinch as the man brought up the gun, cocked it, and fired.

He felt nothing hit his shoulder… because nothing did.

Someone had sprinted from one of the side alleys and knocked the man over. The man's gun fell from his hand as the quick moving figure spun, scooped up Luke, who protested, and whisked him away.

"Let me go back!" he cried. "I need to go back, I need to help her!"

"There will be a time to help her later," said a calm voice in his ear. "She's not dead, and you can't help her if you get caught too."

"But she needs me…" he mumbled.

"Luke, I promise you that she'll be all right, okay?"

Luke finally seemed to wake up as the person left the alleys behind them. He turned to catch a glimpse of the woman's face. "Claire?" he gasped.

She didn't react to his surprise. "Yes, it's me. I'll tell you more when we get to a safe place… Where are you staying?"

"Emmy's house…" Luke gave her the address.

Claire snorted. "You're kidding me. It was that simple?" She sighed, turning at the next corner. "Rhonda's going to be so mad…"

Luke was still numb, just letting her carry him away.

"This is it, right?"

Luke glanced up long enough to agree that the house was indeed Emmy's.

Claire set him down, grasping his hand as she tugged him towards the door. "Come on, then. I know we'll be able to find Flora. But I need to talk to Hershel, first."

He just nodded.

Claire rolled her eyes, in surprisingly high spirits. She rang the doorbell.

There was no answer.

"Emmy's at lunch with her sister," Luke explained after a second. He leaned forward and knocked a pattern on the door—a familiar one. The same they'd used in the clock shop when traveling to "future London". "We have a secret knock so we know when it's safe to answer the door."

The professor answered it this time.

"Welcome back, Lu…" He trailed off, realizing who Luke was with.

Claire gave him an apologetic smile. "Hershel…" she began. She never finished her sentence.

A curious look came over her face—one of shock and fear—and she pitched forward, almost in slow motion.

The professor, ever gallant, dove forward to catch her. She landed neatly in his arms. With Luke's help, he flipped her over, so her face was upwards.

He stared at her, unable to say anything.

She stared back, unmoving.

He felt her pulse. All was normal. She was breathing normally too.

And yet she was lying in front of them, eyes unseeing and pointed upwards, as though she were dead.

Was she dead?

It was like… her mind was gone… but her body went on living.

It was impossible…

It was all so impossible…

"Professor…" Luke whispered quietly. "Flora's… Flora's dead…"

The man's face became stoic.

Unable to say anything more, he simply stood, turned, and walked into the house.

xXx

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid…

Why was it that it only ever happened at the most inconvenient moments?

"Are you away, little bird?"

Claire, hearing the voice, immediately lunged in its general direction. Her fingers hit cloth, and she grabbed a fistful of it and yanked it towards her.

There was a little shriek as she opened her eyes and the rest of reality came back to her.

She had been lying on a metal examining table, and was currently barefoot. She was wearing a tight white lab coat, a dark green blouse underneath, a pink tie, and bright green pants. And… did she have her _glasses_ on?

This was what she had been wearing…

Did that mean that in order to get her back, they'd had to go through the original? It made sense… And that meant if she could escape now, she'd be free…

That was sufficient reason to escape.

"How did she wake up? Those drugs were enough to keep her under for hours!" The voice came from a frightened man near her, but not the scientist she was holding.

No, she realized with pleasure, the scientist she was holding onto was Gloria Dove.

"Did you figure in the new enhancements?" Gloria screamed at the man.

"N-no…"

"Idiot! Get someone…"

Enhancements? That didn't sound good, but she could deal with that later.

"Don't move!" she shouted at both of them. They both froze. She took advantage of their shock to relive Gloria of everything in her pockets.

"Right," she began, standing up. "I'm going to leave now. And neither of you are going to put up a fight, is that right?"

There was no response.

"I said, is that all right?" Claire accented her shout this time by bringing her fist down on the now empty examining table.

This did not have the desired effect. Gloria spun around with a roar, trying to hit her. Claire tried to figure out when she'd gotten such good reflexes as she easily grabbed Gloria's hand and slammed it to the table. It took her a second to figure out how to fasten the strap around her wrist, and she did the same with the other side.

The man still hadn't moved.

"Right…" Claire muttered, fleeing the room, sprinting through the halls of Genesis to freedom.

xXx

Her head hurt. Whatever those guys had shot her with wasn't going away without a fight.

Luckily, it seemed her body was putting up a good fight.

With a groan, she dragged her eyes open.

…Where the hell was she?

Flora sat up in bed with a start, finally recognizing the room. What on earth?

It was impossible. There was absolutely no possible freaking way that she could be here.

But she was… She was in St. Mystere!

In Lady Dahlia's bedroom, if she wasn't mistaken.

"What?" she whispered.

The door flew open, and Lady Dahlia swept in. "Flora!" she cried. "You're okay!"

Flora blinked. "Yes… I'm okay…" She looked around. "What happened?"

"Don't you remember, dear? The tower fell down! Awful thing, you knew it was going to happen one day."

Flora nodded. "Yes, but after that."

"Oh, darling, the gas leak must have been stronger than we thought! You were muttering a few things when Bruno rescued you."

"The professor rescued me," Flora corrected.

Lady Dahlia looked at her with true confusion. "Who?"

Her heart sank. "Professor Layton. He came and rescued me when the tower was falling. He saved my life. We escaped on the gli…der…"

She trailed off at her adopted mother's look of confusion and concern. "Flora, there was never anyone here by the name of Professor Layton. Really, a glider? As far as I know, no one named Professor Layton even exists—are you sure you feel alright?"

***sighs* Another cliff hanger. Sorry, I couldn't resist. Okay, I am seriously considering shooting someone else, and I've decided to have a poll! So, if you like this story, go vote in the poll on my profile page to see who's getting shot later on!**

**Coming soon: an unusual meeting place that causes more insanity and confusion… and finally some pairings! Oh, and an old friend will be popping up again, and might be sticking around… Any suggestions for more craziness will be appreciated!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello! It's another chapter! AND INSANITY OCCURS. Sorry for the lack of the people at Rhonda's house, you fans of them, but there were other things that needed to get written about.**

**OKAY! THANK YOU TO ALL WHO HAVE VOTED IN THE POLL ON MY PROFILE, BUT I NEED MORE VOTES. SO PLEASE, CLICK ON THAT LITTLE THING THAT SAYS SOGO NEXT TO THE PICTURE AND THEN HIT THE VOTE NOW BUTTON. THANK YOU. Sorry this is all caps, but I have to get people's attention! And now…**

**Personally, I think this title is kinda clever… There's not just one kind of falling going on…**

Chapter Eleven: Falling

Claire had paused to study a conveniently posted map of the facility on one of the walls. The complex was like a maze, but, luckily, it had many exits.

She memorized the location of the nearest exit, but decided to take a small detour.

And that was why, moments later, she could be found in the room where Genesis kept its successful experiments.

After looking around at everything, unsure of what to take, she settled on just grabbing a bag and shoving stuff into it.

She stopped when the alarm went off.

So, now they knew she was in there.

Having no other course of action, as they were already racing to this room, she slipped out the door and through the one just down the hall. After a moment of adjusting her eyes to the dim light, she realized she was in the file room.

Well, as long as she was there…

It took her a minute to find the drawer marked "M" and another one to locate her file. She quickly shoved that into the bag as well.

As soon as she'd finished, she snuck to the door and put her ear to it. There was no sound, so she slipped out.

All the security guards were around the room she'd come out of, searching every inch of it… and they didn't see her.

Trying not to laugh, she spun around and headed for the exit.

Only to bump into a pair of guards.

"Crap," she said, slipping under their arms and sprinting for the way out, the guards in fast pursuit.

xXx

Flora scowled. The seventeen conversations she'd had with Lady Dahlia had been unsuccessful in uncovering anything.

And then she realized she'd been talking to the wrong person.

She raised her arm and knocked loudly on the tower door—which had apparently just been rebuilt.

The door was opened by Bruno, who was greeted to the sight of a _very_ annoyed young teenager crossing her arms and glaring.

"Yes?"

"Bruno, did you reprogram any of the robots?" she asked coldly. "More specifically, did you reprogram any of their memories?"

For a second, he winced, then recovered. "Of course not, young miss."

"You're lying."

There was a long silence.

"I'm not lying," he finally insisted. "Flora, why don't you come inside, so we can talk about this?" He reached out and took Flora's hand.

"Why would I—" she began, before realizing what he was doing. He was tapping something out on her hand…

Morse code.

Flora knew Morse code—it may not have been a common thing, but it was something the professor had insisted she learn. Actually, there were a huge amount of survival skills she'd been taught that they wouldn't ordinarily teach you in a survival course—it may have had something to do with the amount of people who wanted the professor dead.

But it still took her a second to start decoding the string of taps. Dash… that was a t… Dot-dot-dot-dot… that was an h… Dot… that was an e…

_There are cameras_.

Oh… So there weren't cameras inside? Okay…

"Fine," she snapped, still unsure of what was going on. But she let him lead her inside.

xXx

Claire sprinted through the halls, racing to get away from the pair of men now in pursuit. No doubt they had called others, and now a group of them would be pursuing her.

She really had no clue where she was going. She knew where the exit was, but had no idea where that would lead her. Genesis was a huge complex, and every time she'd escaped, she'd ended up somewhere else. It was confusing.

It was like blindly choosing a Jellybean. You never knew where you were going to end up—in your chair sneezing, or in your bathroom, doing something decidedly less pleasant.

She grinned, for a second wondering if Jon had discovered any of the nasty Jellybeans she and Mysti had hidden in the pile they'd been playing for.

Then she turned her mind to the escaping. That would take focus. She couldn't afford to let her mind wander.

There! That was the door.

She flew up the flight of stairs leading to it and put her ear to the door.

"Of course you can't be down here!" she heard a voice cry. "No reporters in the archives! We don't let anyone down here!"

So there was someone on the other side… But the men were getting close. She'd have to risk it.

She pushed through the door, falling into the arms of the shocked man on the other side.

Claire sighed with relief as she looked up and recognized the confused face, immediately putting two and two together, deducing her location, and planning the fastest way back to Rhonda's house.

"What in the blazes—!"

The man almost dropped her, but she caught herself, turning for the door, pausing only to look behind her and say, "Good evening, Inspector Chelmey!"

He stared at her, glanced at the door she had just popped from—completely invisible to someone who didn't know what they were looking for, as it blended perfectly into the wall—and looked back at her as she ran up the stairs of Scotland Yard.

"Hang on!" he finally shouted, turning and following her. "I want answers!"

At that moment, the mob of men burst from the door, but the inspector didn't see them, as he was chasing Claire.

So it was that a few minutes later, a huge chase was on in the middle of London.

The inspector had almost caught up to Claire. "What's going on?" he shouted. "Aren't you dead? Several times?"

"Yes!" she cried back. "I was! It's a long story, and this is hardly the time!"

"And exactly why isn't it—!" The inspector was cut off as a man in black overtook him.

"See you!" Claire called, almost cheerfully as she poured on the speed, easily outstripping both men.

This was getting ridiculous. First the speed in overpowering Gloria, and now this? She wasn't even feeling winded!

She had another really bad feeling about what Gloria could have meant by "enhancements".

The streets were getting too crowded. With a sigh, she turned and ran into the road.

A car was whizzing past, and she took the opportunity to grab onto the side of it, successfully freaking out its occupants.

Claire was running out of options. She had to shake the mob of security guys after her and the inspector… though it was probably a good idea to get word to the inspector, too. It was always good to have the law on your side.

There was a pen in her pocket somewhere, she was sure. She always used to carry one, along with a notebook…

She let go of the car, opting to slip between the heavy traffic.

It seemed only the inspector had caught on to what she was doing—the others had vanished.

That simplified things. But it was only a matter of time…

Wait a second. The Thames was near here, wasn't it? She immediately adjusted her course for the river.

xXx

"We can talk now," Bruno said quietly.

"I don't understand what's going on!" Flora cried.

Bruno sighed softly. "You were right. I had to reprogram the robots, but it's easy to fix."

"I still don't understand."

"The professor is real," he told her. "The professor is real, you were right, and I was forced to reprogram the robot's memories."

Flora's hand reached unconsciously to her shoulder blade, where she'd been shot before. "But why? What happened?"

Bruno sighed, adjusting his cap. "Flora… A while ago a pair of men came to my door. They had you with them, unconscious. They said that if I could make you forget everything about the professor, and sever all ties to him, they'd let you live. And I… I couldn't betray your father by not taking the offer. I just didn't want to see you hurt."

Flora just stared at him.

"They put cameras around most of the town, but I managed to keep them out of the work shop," he explained. "And I've been working on a way for you to escape."

Flora raised an eyebrow. "You would let me? Even to that danger?"

He sighed. "I had a feeling that you'd put it all together, and, frankly, there's no keeping you away once you have something in mind. You're very like your father in that way."

She let a smile creep onto her features. "You said you've been working on something?"

Bruno walked over to his work table and dramatically whipped off the sheet on top of it revealing…

Flora smiled.

xXx

Claire reached the Thames. The inspector was still the person closest to her, but the rest of the people weren't far behind.

The building she was aiming for, one under construction, was there, which was great. She jumped the yellow tape and entered through an empty window.

She ran for the stairs, hoping to gain height and lead the men behind her.

It was working. First Inspector Chelmey, then the rest of the men came running through the building. Now she just had to make it to the top floor.

It took several minutes, but she wasn't at all slowed by the stairs—another odd thing—and she reached the top floor quickly.

Good, the window overlooking the river hadn't been put in yet. That was escape plan A.

But instead of just jumping out then, she quickly stopped in the middle of the barren floor and dug in her pocket for a notebook and pen.

Thank goodness, they were still there.

Working as fast as she possibly could, she jotted down her message and shoved the pen back in her pocket. She didn't bother to rip out the page—with her plan, the rest of the notebook would be rendered unusable, and if the inspector could use it… hey, no sense in wasting paper, right?

She had just finished the action as the inspector ran up the stairs.

Claire quickly calculated that she had maybe a minute before the rest of the men got within ear shot, so she was safe to speak. "Good afternoon, Inspector. It's nice to finally see you outside of a coma."

His mouth dropped open. "How-who…"

She shot him a quick smile, took several steps forward, and shoved the notebook into his hand. "I have to go, they're coming. Maybe we'll meet again soon?"

He wasn't able to move.

The men's footsteps pounded on the stairs below.

"I have to go," Claire repeated, giving a little wave, jogging to the window, and, just as they reached the top of the stairs, jumping out.

The air whistled through her ears as she straightened her body to dive into the water, realizing just how stupid this idea was.

It was also very clichéd.

But hey, as long as it worked…

She hit the water. It hurt.

xXx

"This is a stupid idea," Flora muttered to herself for the umpteenth time.

Really, it was genius—the only way to leave the village so the cameras wouldn't catch her. Bruno's plan was brilliant in its simplicity. Build a robot identical to Flora, program it to act like Flora, release it to take Flora's place, and let Flora escape on a well made glider. The glider was to be launched off the tower, and, with a few modifications to the design of the improvised glider the professor had made a year ago, would clear the wall surrounding the village.

Then Flora would have to either walk or hitchhike to London, but she knew that London was only an hour away by car. Surely she could reach it within a day or two of walking.

"Are you ready?"

Bruno's soft voice came from the other end of the room. Flora nodded resolutely. He had just released the robot—which they had come to call Aurora, and there was no use in putting off the escape.

Flora shifted the backpack she had filled with food earlier that morning and moved the glider to the window. "I guess I am."

"Come back when you can," Bruno told her.

"I will," she promised. "I won't make you live under a camera's eye forever."

Bruno smiled and stepped back. "Take care, Miss."

"I will," Flora laughed. "Don't I always?"

"If you always took care, you wouldn't be here, would you?"

"Yes, but it was nice to visit. Look after my village."

Bruno nodded, waving as the young girl launched the glider.

The trip over the wall was relatively short, but it felt like an eternity, not to mention the fact that she really had to wrestle with the controls. But then she was on the other side, free. For now.

xXx

The professor had shut himself up in his room for a while now, and both Luke and Emmy were getting restless. Emmy had recently arrived home, looking taxed, and helped Luke finish carrying Claire to the couch.

But the professor had been in his room since Luke had returned, and it didn't look like he was planning to come out anytime soon.

Truthfully, for almost an hour, the professor had been trying to solve a puzzle—a much darker one than usual.

He had mulled over the fact that he really was cursed, and if there was a way to break that curse. He didn't want either Luke or Emmy to fall prey to it.

And, try as he might, he could find only one answer to this puzzle…

"Do you think he's okay in there?" Luke asked Emmy.

"Why don't you go check? Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, anyway." Emmy was cooking. That was the only reason she had sent Luke.

What Luke saw when he opened the door would stay with him for the rest of his life.

The professor was there, but he was definitely not okay.

Luke registered the limp form on the floor, the knife in his hand, and the blood, the blood everywhere before he screamed.

xXx

It was late, so late… Flora was struggling keep her eyes open. She must have taken a wrong turn somewhere.

Once again, she cursed herself for falling asleep on the way to London. Now she was completely lost.

A car came by on the road before pulling over and coming to a stop.

Was it the professor? Had he come to rescue her?

Flora couldn't stay awake any longer.

Someone climbed out of the driver's seat, but he was blurring… She couldn't find his face. The world was turning to blackness.

"…Professor Layton?" she whispered before she collapsed, right into the man's arms.

There was a long silence. She was going to fight back until she heard a voice. "Layton? Professor Layton, you say?"

And then she was gone, falling into the warm embrace of sleep.

**Does anyone get Aurora's name? Yes? No? If you have a guess, please click on that little review button and let me know!**

**Thanks for all the phobias, guys! I think I have it all figured out!**


	13. Chapter 13

**I'm so sorry this took so long! I was… um… busy. Yes, very busy with school work and stuff and my plot bunny stole my lack of direction when he went to get coffee, so there was a little issue with tracking him down… (We did manage to find him: he was in the refrigerator, can you believe it?)**

**Up ahead: rubber ducky goodness (I didn't know it was spelled like that, did you?) and someone that everyone seems to love! Enter the red-head awesome person!**

**Okay, so most of you are probably just skipping over this section but I thought I'd give you a quick look at the poll: currently Hawks and Gloria are tied for first place. Seriously, I need an actual winner. Please, vote!**

**So thanks for listening/reading to my rambling, and enjoy!**

Chapter Twelve: Found

It was all his fault.

That was what had been going through his head as he paced that room. The curse was continuing, and people were getting hurt.

He didn't want anyone else close to him hurt.

The movement required would have to be quick… No doubt they would be coming to check on him soon.

He raised the knife.

xXx

Flora woke up.

At first she was excited. She wasn't out lost in the middle of the country side anymore.

And then she realized she was still as lost as ever. Where was she?

She was somewhere nice, that much was for certain. The bed was tall and had long white curtains. It had a dark wood, something Flora knew was expensive.

A door opened on the other side of the room, and she jumped, sitting up.

"Oh, wonderful, you're up."

A woman with blond hair stepped into the room. "I was just coming to check on you. Are you feeling alright?"

Flora nodded wordlessly. Who were these people? What was going on? Was she stuck in another prison?

The woman smiled kindly. "I know you're dying to meet the man who brought you here—I'm sure you're panicking inside. It's okay, I promise. Maybe I seem a little insightful, but if you're the Flora Reinhold I've heard about…"

This did nothing to ease Flora's discomfort. "You know me?"

"As a matter of fact, your adoptive father and I go way back… Give me a minute, I should tell the others you've awakened." The woman smiled again as she left the room.

Flora still felt a little uneasy. She slowly stood. She was still in her dress, but someone had removed her shoes and placed them next to the door.

Was this another of Hawks's tricks?

And then she looked around at the exquisite room, and, more importantly, at the photos which filled it.

Was that the professor?

Flora would swear it was, but she couldn't be sure. The photo was obviously several years old, a picture of a teenaged boy with wild brown hair, a blonde girl—the woman who had just been there, perhaps?—and another boy with thick black glasses and bright red hair. The brown haired boy looked so similar to the professor, Flora would swear that they were related, in the very least. He was laughing in the picture with his arm slung over the red head's shoulders. The girl was smiling and hugging the future professor around the waist, and the red head was winking and giving a thumbs up to the camera.

Flora smiled. They were cute together.

Now, as she looked around, she saw several pictures the teenaged professor was in. One that looked newer, more recent, had the blonde women, the red head, several years older, another man with light brown hair she recognized from several other photos, the professor, and… was that Luke and Emmy?

That made her calm down slightly. If these people really did know the professor…

"Flora?"

Flora turned around to see the woman smiling at her, standing next to the red head from the photos. "This is the man who found you."

He gave her a cheerful smile that seemed as carefree as the one he'd worn as a teenager and stuck out his hand.

Flora took it. "Hello," she said politely. "I'm Flora Reinhold."

The man gave a ridiculously deep bow while still holding her hand, making both her and the woman giggle. "Good morning, Flora. My name is Lando. Lando Ascad."

xXx

Jon gagged. "What the heck is the matter with this Jellybean?"

"Hmm…" Mysti pretended to carefully consider that. "Well, I suppose it might be the pepper flavored one… Or the garlic… It might be the wood flavored one…"

"YOU MIXED DIGUSTING JELLYBEANS INTO MY PERFECT PILE?" Jon ran out of the room.

"He's going to get your worst fear," Clive told her, checking Dimitri. "Run while you can."

Mysti frowned. "I don't have a—WHAT THE HECK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, GET THAT THING AWAY FROM ME!" She drew back from the object Jon now held in his hand, grinning wickedly.

Jon took a step forward. Mysti stepped back.

Within a few moments of this, she had been cornered. She stood back against the wall, staring at the thing she feared most, one of the few things in the world which could terrify her.

"Did she ever tell you why she's scared of that thing?" Clive asked, as Mystery whimpered a meek, "It's staring at me."

"I think it's just one of those inexplicable things about human nature," Dimitri answered. "Or maybe she had a scarring experience. I'm not sure."

"I was just curious," Clive explained. "Checkmate in seven, isn't it?"

Dimitri replied affirmatively as he began to reset the board.

Mysti finally broke away from her brother and escaped both the room and the rubber ducky in her brother's hand.

xXx

Luke had never before seen anything so terrible. The professor had been his closest friend. Now, to see him like this…

"Is he going to be okay?" he asked Emmy, his voice almost pleading.

Emmy looked up from the blood stained rag in her hand. "The idiot tried to slit his wrists," she said, her voice hard. "He's not well, mentally or physically. I don't know how the mental area will affect his recovery. On the other hand, it's probably a good thing he wasn't mentally stable. Otherwise he would have attempted a generally more successful method of suicide, such as hanging, or jumping into the Thames from a bridge, or something like that."

"So… he's going to be okay?"

"I don't know. But if he thinks he can just go and die on me, he's got another think coming. Hand me another bandage, will you? This one's soaked through."

Luke turned slightly paler as he obeyed. "But… but he can't die! I… He's the only person I have left…"

"And I'm nothing?" Emmy demanded, before wincing. "Sorry, that was out of line. I know how you feel." With that, she briskly brought her hand across the professor's face. "Don't you dare die on me, you—!"

"Emmy!" Luke gasped, cutting in before she'd finished. "The professor would scold you for saying such things—."

"Not now, Luke!" she shouted, tying the bandage she was working on too tightly. "I'm a little upset! Help me tie this moron up before he wakes up and tries to kill himself again!"

They ended up setting him on the bed and tying his arms behind his back, then tying his shoulders to the bed frame.

Then, to further prevent him from moving, they tied his legs to the other end of the bed, tightly, preventing him from moving.

As they left the room, exhausted and hungry, Luke asked something that had particularly struck him. "Can jumping off a bridge into the Thames really kill you?"

"Of course it can, Luke. Haven't you ever read those books?"

"In what books does it say jumping into a river can kill you?" Luke demanded.

Emmy thought for a moment. "Well… _Les Miserables_ comes to mind…"

"But no one dies in that!"

There was a long silence.

"Exactly what version did you read?"

"The professor said he edited it a bit, but it was still a great story! I especially loved how Cosette's mother ended up marrying that Madeline guy…"

Emmy sighed. "Seriously, you need to get out more."

xXx

This was a stupid idea. This was a stupid idea. This was a stupid idea. This was a—.

Claire's thoughts were cut short as she hit the water.

It hurt.

Luckily, she had turned in the air, and had dived into the river.

She was immediately spun around in a whirl of white water and bubbles.

The second thing that struck her was that it was very cold. But she still had to make it away, chose a random direction, and began swimming.

The third thing that struck her, and this wasn't long after, was that she had to come up for air soon before she drowned.

She pushed herself to the direction she thought was surface and burst from the river, taking a deep breath and surveying her surroundings.

She had pulled herself a good distance from the building, and was now being pushed gently down the river by the current.

Claire smiled, turning and smoothly cutting through the waves along with the current. After all, this was the fastest way to Rhonda's house.

xXx

Professor Layton woke up, which was a surprise in itself.

It was a confusing puzzle to how he could still be alive, one that he was determined to solve. He mulled it over. The knife…

He mentally berated himself. He should have gone with hanging—so much quicker, and it wouldn't leave a huge mess for Emmy to clean up.

He decided he'd better clean up the mess he'd left and get around to killing himself.

That's when the professor realized he was tied to the bed.

He sighed. He should have realized as soon as he'd woken up that they'd found him. They'd found him, and they'd…

Saved him, he supposed. Why did that sound like such a good thing? It was terrible, an awful, horrible thing. He should be dead, he should be dead, he should be dead…

Something lying on the small table next to the bed caught his attention. His top hat was lying on its side, as though it had been tossed there as an afterthought.

This was enough to make him fight the bonds—a gentleman should never remove his hat, and the fact that it was lying just out of reach was enough to drive one mad…

Except for the fact that he already was mad.

He gasped. He had gone mad. Mad enough to try and kill himself—what was the matter with him? Why on earth had he decided that it was a good idea to die?

The thought of the curse now seemed ridiculous, even with Flora and Claire…

Flora and Claire…

The memory came back. They were dead. Dead! Like he should be…

He should be dead! That was why he'd done it!

Somehow, the idea of being dead didn't seem so appealing now.

His eyes drifted back over to where his top hat was laying sideways, the inside facing him…

Inside facing him…

Wait a second.

He tried and failed to lean in, finally settling to just line it all up from where he was laying. He could clearly see both the interior and exterior of his hat.

So why did the exterior look so much larger than the interior? He quickly came up with an explanation for that, but that only left another question: who would put a secret compartment in his hat? More importantly, why his?

How had he never noticed it before?

"Emmy!"

The first vocal sound from the room, the first sound signifying that he was actually alive and conscious, brought Emmy sprinting into the room.

"Professor! You're alive!"

"Emmy…" he began, but fell silent when she walked across the room and slapped him.

"How could you do that!" she screamed. "You've been unconscious for hours! You permanently scarred Luke! You… I thought you were…"

Luke came flying into the room. The professor wasn't sure if the boy's feet even touched the ground before he had hit him with a flying hug.

"Oof… Luke… can't… breathe…"

"YOU'RE OKAY!"

"Luke… There's something…"

"I thought you were dead! How could you do something like that? How could you possibly think it was a good idea? How could you…"

"I was really worried! You scared me…"

After about five minutes of constant talking, they both calmed down enough to listen to what the professor was saying.

"Can someone untie me?"

Emmy crossed her arms defiantly. "Why should we?"

"Because there's a secret compartment in my hat."

"Is this another one of those April Fools' Day type things where you tell me to look somewhere and all I find is a note with the word gullible on it?"

The professor moaned. "You know, I only did that once…"

Luke reached for the hat and stuck his hand inside, frowning when his hand came in contact with the top. "That's funny… I think he's right."

Emmy took the top hat and felt around the inside. "Yes, there's something here… I think it's sewed in… I'll go get some scissors." She left.

She was back a moment later, a thick envelope in her hands. "It's addressed to you," she told the professor, cutting the ropes and handing it to him.

He ran his hands over it. "Do not open until after…" he looked up in shock, recognizing the date. "This is the day Clive attacked London."

"Open it!" Luke cried excitedly. "Open it, open it!"

The professor hesitantly opened the envelope, letting a pile of papers slid into his lap. They looked several years old.

But he still could recognize the hand writing.

So could Luke and Emmy.

"Is that…" Luke began, unable to finish.

"Your writing?" Emmy finished for him.

"Yes…" the professor muttered, trying to remember where he'd seen the papers before. He knew them… When had he written them?

It jumped out at him as he read a few lines.

…_ten killed, many injured…_

…_possible cover up? …_

…_Prime Minister former scientist…_

"These are my notes," he realized. "They used to be in that old notebook, the one that was torn to pieces."

He looked at Emmy and Luke in utter confusion. "But why would anyone break into my flat, tear apart my stuff, and rip out these pages… only to sew them into my hat?"

**Oh my gosh, another confusing mystery! Please review!**


	14. Chapter 14

…**This took too long. Far too long. So, as a little bonus, I'm including this little glimpse of why.**

MouseMaster42 was happily typing at her computer when the doorbell rang.

"Snape, get the door," she called, naming one of the numerous imaginary people living in her house.

The dark haired man lying on the couch didn't even crack open an eye. "Fang, get the door!"

"Mouse, get the door," the bird kid responded as he walked past, not even pausing on his way to the kitchen.

Mouse muttered under her breath, wondering why on earth she couldn't roleplay anyone even slightly more helpful and went to get the door.

"Hel—…lo…"

Mouse looked down. A young woman sat cross legged on the ground.

"Hello," the woman sighed.

"Excuse me, but who exactly are you?" Mouse asked, confused. She didn't recognize the woman from anywhere around town, or even from the score of imaginary folk fanfiction writers typically bumped into.

Or maybe the woman just wasn't one she knew.

"Well, according to Sogo, I'm a distraction," the woman answered.

"Oh! Sogo sent you, then?"

"Sogo has decided that she really needs to crack down on her current fanfiction and decided to punish all her distractions. And my punishment was coming here. And it's now over."

"Not much of a punishment, then, is it?" Mouse asked.

"No, but it's absolute hell trying to keep your dignity," the woman replied, pulling a pair of silver shoes from a black shoulder bag she carried. "Help me put these on, will you?"

"Iggy, help this nice woman put her shoes on!" Mouse shouted back into the house.

Two thumps came from above. Obviously, the blind bird boy had walked into a wall.

With a sigh, Mouse knelt down to help the woman. "Why exactly do you need my help?"

"Long story. Let's just say I didn't exactly walk over here."

After fastening the last strap, the woman stood.

"How many things is Sogo punishing?"

The woman shuddered. "A lot. You should have heard her this morning. 'If you like jumping off bridges so much, why don't you just go do it, Oz dang it!' She sounded like me."

Mouse winced. "Brutal."

"Tell me about it. She's drowning her homework."

Mouse had no reply to that.

"On the upside, she'll have the next chapter up soon."

The conversation was interrupted by a huge machine tramping down the street after two boys who couldn't have been more than twelve.

"I guess we should have re-checked that circuit after Sogo got to it, huh?" called one of the boys to the other. "But I guess you live and learn."

The other boy gave a thumbs up and pulled out a screwdriver.

But they are not who this little tale is focusing on, and for the ones who it is, silence reigned until the boys had turned the corner.

"I get the feeling it's not safe for you to go home yet," Mouse commented.

The woman shrugged. "Oh, well, I've been meaning to visit my sister anyways. See you around." She turned and disappeared after taking no more than three steps.

Mouse blinked, then sighed, shutting the door. One of these days, Sogo was going to end up in an asylum.

An explosion echoed in the distance as the MouseMaster returned to her computer.

**And… Yeah. I asked Mouse for her permission before posting this, so don't attack me for using her in here. If you like this little intro, tell me. I might do it more often.**

**Virtual cookies to anyone who can tell me who A) the mysterious woman is, B) the guy who's going to jump off a bridge, and C) the two boys.**

**Good Luck!**

Chapter Thirteen: Connecting the Dots

Mystery had jumped out the window. This had caused a great deal of panic, for the obvious reasons. Once everyone had actually calmed down enough to hear what she had to say, they discovered that someone had completely filled her room with rubber duckies.

It didn't take them long to figure out who had done it, and Jon found himself stranded on the roof with no way down before breakfast.

"Ah, mornings," Dimitri sighed, in a considerably good mood.

Rhonda glanced up. "We should probably get him down from there before he makes a scene."

"Where's the fun in that?" Clive asked.

Someone knocked at the door.

There was a moment of silence.

Clive chose this moment to swear, and nobody bothered to scold him.

Rhonda was the first to jump into action. "Everybody upstairs, now. If you have to, get out through the fire escape. Be ready."

However, before anyone could actually follow her instructions, Jon walked into the kitchen, Claire close behind.

"The door was unlocked," Jon announced helpfully.

Claire looked annoyed. "I'm gone for half a day, I get back, and someone's on the roof?"

"There goes my chance to win at cards…" Clive muttered, only half joking.

"I have some good news and some bad news," Claire continued.

"Where's Flora?" Mysti asked.

"That's the bad news. She got shot, but if my prediction is correct, she'll be contacting us soon."

"Shot!"

Claire shifted uneasily. "It's a long story… Anyways, do you care if I use the phone?"

Rhonda shook her head. "Who are you going to call?"

Claire just laughed. "That, my friend, is the good news."

xXx

The professor's friends, Flora decided, were cool.

Lando behaved more like a child than an adult. After he had taken her on a tour of the city and told her a half of a story—that sounded ridiculous—about an adventure the professor had in that city, Sharon had dragged her away to look at old photos.

Flora would have complained, if the pictures had been so… cute!

"Is that really the professor?" she asked excitedly.

Sharon laughed. "Yes. Lando took pride in getting him to do the most ridiculous things…"

"…A puppet?"

Lando, who was sitting nearby, chuckled. "I swear Hershel had no idea of dates. He couldn't figure out that I would pull something on April Fools Day… It's almost sad. I convinced him it would be a good idea to build a tree house…"

"And rope is a necessity when building one," Sharon muttered.

"…Then I convinced him to tie the rope around his waist and lower himself down to nail the stairs to the tree…"

"Next thing you know, Lando's got him hanging by his wrists and ankles, and the poor boy's a human puppet," Sharon finished.

Flora laughed. "His hair is so big!"

Lando smirked. "And, as such, was a wonderful place to shove things. I remember one time…"

It was shaping up to be a wonderful day.

xXx

"This…"

"This makes no sense whatsoever!" Emmy cried, completing the professor's thought. "If those things weren't stolen, then why?"

The professor was searching through the papers. "They're all here… What's this?"

Luke snatched the paper out of the professor's hand, ready for the scolding he knew he was about to receive. "It's a letter!"

"Luke! A gentleman never…" he trailed off helplessly as Emmy grabbed the envelope from Luke and read the front.

"'To Hershel Layton, with my deepest apologies. Please know I shall never forgive myself.'"

"Emmy, please, a lady never…"

Emmy had already opened the envelope, and was wordlessly scanning the first few lines.

She raised an eyebrow. "Professor, do you know anyone who's in love with you?"

"Well, there's presumably Rosetta, and the unconscious woman who's supposed to be dead that's lying on your couch—why do you ask?"

"This letter was written by someone who loves you."

"How do you know?" Luke asked.

"The paper is scented, with a perfume I'm familiar with—my sister uses it. It's expensive. I don't see someone using it for just anything. In addition, the person has written 'I love you' several times in the letter. But let's pretend my conclusion is based solely on the first detail. It makes me sound smarter."

The professor succeeded in tearing the letter away from Emmy. He glanced at it and gave a wordless cry.

"Professor?" Luke asked.

"This…" he began, unable to finish. "This is… this is Claire's handwriting…"

xXx

"THEY'VE BEEN HIDING AT MY SISTER'S HOUSE?"

Rhonda's reaction had been loud, immediate, and completely reflected her personality.

"It makes sense," Clive admitted. "I should have thought of it earlier."

"I should have thought of it earlier," Rhonda muttered. "Of course my sister would take him in. It makes sense… Why didn't I see it?"

"Because you're an idiot," Jon replied helpfully.

"Strong words, coming from someone who was stuck on the roof an hour ago."

Jon pouted.

"Idiot," Mysti smirked, whacking him on the arm, causing him to yelp.

"Ow!"

"Oops. Didn't mean to hit that hard. Sorry."

"I'm going to call her right now," Rhonda said determinedly, striding to the phone.

"Oh, and the rest of the good news," Claire said suddenly. "I'm me again!"

Rhonda spun around in surprise. "You are?"

"Yep! Oh, and I may have left an unconscious body on your sister's doorstep. Wow, I can't believe I almost forgot that."

"…My sister's doorstep?"

"It's a long story… There was a pair of thugs at the cemetery, and they had guns… Then they must have flipped the power off when I got away…"

"I'm going to pretend I'm following all of this and just ask if you had to escape again, why you're wet, and what's in the bag by the door," Dimitri asked.

"Yes, I did have to escape again. It was through a different door this time…" Claire chuckled. "I think I gave Inspector Chelmey a heart attack, though."

Rhonda dropped the phone, opting to wait just a little longer. She slid back into her seat, looking just like an overly eager teenager hearing the new gossip. "I must hear this. Please, continue."

xXx

The professor was speechless as he read the letter. Nothing was making sense, but a few things were starting to fall into place.

"_The truth of the matter is, they weren't going to do anything about you digging around. They didn't care that you were getting close, and decided that if you stumbled onto anything important, they could always kill you. Of course, if you just accepted this, it would leave the question of the thugs they sent after you unanswered. But they sent the thugs after you because of me._

"_I started to escape. I escaped a lot, and they couldn't always catch me. Finally, they threatened if I went to the police, or tried to contact you, they would hurt you. I had to find you, though. I broke into your apartment one day, (a puzzle lock, Hershel? Really?) and, remembering what I had overheard, tore it apart. But I couldn't stand to destroy your notes, Hershel! I stole them, instead._

"_You weren't at the apartment, so I decided to try and find you. I came upon you just as you were slipping into unconsciousness. I shouted at the thugs, drawing them away. I gave them the slip and contacted the hospital about you as soon as I could. I visited you, you know, and that was when I sewed this into your hat. The threatening letters you've been receiving… Those aren't from Hawks. A friend of mine promised to send you one each time you began to dig into the case. I'm so sorry about that. But you need to get those letters. I remember."_

The professor paused in his reading, not able to go on. However, the moment he stopped reading, Emmy snatched the paper from him and silently scanned the rest.

It took thirty seconds for her to pin point the name of Claire's friend.

She took a deep breath and walked over to the phone.

"Emmy?" Luke asked. "What is it?"

"Someone is about to get in huge trouble," she answered. She picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello?" asked the voice on the other end.

"Hello Rhonda," Emmy deadpanned. "You seem to have left something on my doorstep."

xXx

"Who is it?" Mysti asked eagerly.

Rhonda made a shushing motion. "I didn't put anything on your door step."

"Is it Emmy?" Claire asked.

Rhonda made another shushing motion. "Oh, really? It's funny you should mention that, with the people you've been hiding."

Everyone in the room could hear the answering, "Well, at least the people I'm hiding aren't criminals!"

Rhonda rolled her eyes.

"Invite them over!" Claire said excitedly.

"So, are you coming over, or what? …What do you mean you have him tied to the bed? HE DID WHAT?"

There was a moment of silence in which everyone leaned closer to hear what was going on.

"Oh no, he's not doing anything like that—put him on a leash if you have to! Get him over here! …Wait a second, I have someone on the other line."

Rhonda pushed a button to flip to the other line. "Hello, Rhonda Altava speaking… No, I'm afraid that there's no one here by that name. Who is this? Oh! Right, I can give you the number of where you can contact him at." She rattled off several numbers. "Sorry I couldn't give you that earlier, you know how it is. Oh, by the way, I've always wanted to congratulate on the freak out you gave my sister a few years ago. Yeah, that's me. Sorry I have to go, but I have someone on the other line."

She clicked off and began speaking to her sister again. "Hey! You'll never believe who that was!"

On the other side of the connection, Emmy smirked. "Wouldn't I?"

"No, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't—"

Emmy frowned. "Hang on a second. There's someone on the other line." She quickly switched over, much to Luke and Layton's surprise. "Hello? Oh, God, it's you."

At this point, Luke glanced over to Layton. "Does he really get service up there?"

Layton, ever the tactful one, didn't respond.

"Why do you ask? No, maybe I won't pass that alo—Oh! Really? That's wonderful!" She laughed loudly. "Nah, just my sister… That was you? Why am I not surprised? Of course it was. You say she was where? That is interesting. I'm sorry she completely forgot which way to go, but at least she's safe. Oh, yeah, I'll give him a hard time for you. You told her what?" She started laughing again. "No. I hadn't. Yes, I'll pass along the message. Call you later."

She flipped back to her sister. "Hey, I'm back. I have a pretty good idea of who that was. Yeah, he just called. Right, we'll be over ASAP. See you in a minute!"

With this, Emmy hung up.

"I have no idea what's going on," Luke admitted.

"Flora's alive and well!" Emmy related cheerfully. "She's been fine for a while, but Lando, that dolt, couldn't figure out how to contact us. And, right now, we're going to visit someone!"

"Who?" Luke asked, nervous.

"My sister, of course!" Emmy laughed, grabbing the keys to the Laytonmobile and leading the way to the car. "It's about time you met her!"

…**Yay, Lando found the right number! Are things actually starting to look up? Of course not! Don't forget to vote for Don Paolo's guest appearance on April Fools Day on my profile!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Oh. My. Gosh. I am SO sorry. It was school. I blame school. But I finally finished another chapter, and now that school's finished, I hope I can get them to you more quickly! And, because some people seemed to like them, I even made you a little fun intro!**

It was difficult to sneak in. Impossible.

And that was why she completely failed at it.

"Ahem."

Sogo winced at the sound of someone clearing their throat. "Emmy…" she began lamely, turning to the sound of the voice. "I can explain…"

"Five months, Sogo. Five months."

"I know!" the young author protested, holding out several typed sheets in front of her. "But I just finished! It was school's fault…"

"Just school?"

Sogo averted her gaze shamefully.

"Is there another fandom?"

"…Maybe."

"Sogo!"

"I'm sorry, okay?" the girl pleaded. "Look, I'm trying my best, and I'm making 'Faceless Twins' my top priority, I promise! No other fandoms until it's done!"

Emmy studied the girl for a long moment before turning her back with a sigh. "Hurry up."

Sogo grinned and ran for the computer—it turned out she could still lie her socks off.

**Erm… So… yes! There will be more stuff coming, hopefully soon! And I don't think I've done this in a while, but I don't own anything! Enjoy this chapter!**

Chapter Fourteen: Meetings

There were few things in the world that the professor actually thought he would never see that he hadn't already seen, but two Laytonmobiles sitting right next to each other was one of them.

Well, apparently, not anymore.

"Does anyone know how the heck they got a second Laytonmobile?" Emmy asked.

"It must be the original," the professor answered simply as he parked the car.

"The what?"

"Clive made a look alike in 'future' London. This one is that. So that car must be the original. I was wondering why I couldn't find it."

Emmy was mystified. "If it's a look alike, how do you know the difference?"

"This one flies," the professor answered simply.

Emmy just stared.

Luke took the opportunity to jump out of the back. "Come on, you slow pokes! Someone's gonna see us if we stay out here!"

The professor chuckled in agreement, climbing out of the driver's seat. "I have to admit, I'm interested to see who's here…"

He trailed off as a woman with bright red hair came sprinting out of the house, a terrified look on her face.

A second later, Dimitri Allen followed. "Mysti, Claire got it away from him! You can come back inside now!"

The woman, Mysti, glanced back at him, and then at the three new arrivals. "Wait a second. How did you get out here?"

"How did who get out—."

Dimitri trailed off as soon as he saw who she was referring to. "Hershel! It's been quite a while!"

"Dimitri? I didn't expect to see you here," the professor admitted. "How on earth did you get dragged into this?"

"After Clive's attack on London, we were both… You see, there was a problem with multiple personality disorder… Um… It's a very long and complicated story. I'm not the best at telling it."

"Then who is?"

Dimitri smiled. "Why don't you come in and ask her yourself?"

"After I kill Rhonda," Emmy declared. "She has a lot of explaining to do."

"No," Dimitri corrected. "I think Claire has a lot of explaining to do."

xXx

Claire was in the kitchen.

The professor's first reaction upon seeing her was to gasp. "So you really are alive!"

She smiled and motioned for him and everyone else to sit down. "Yeah. Sorry about that all. It's been complicated."

"No time travel?" he questioned.

"Nope!" she responded cheerfully. "Well, not exactly. At first, yes. That was me in the future. But it wasn't me. Do you follow?"

Luke voiced everyone's thoughts. "Um… What?"

Claire laughed. "Okay. I'll try and explain it best I can. It all started back when I was working at the Institute for Polydimensional Research. The thing about the institute is that they never seemed to be able to keep someone working there for long."

As she said this, she grew more serious. "That reason was Genesis. I didn't know it at the time. Genesis is a huge company, and they're always looking for good scientists. It makes perfect sense that they'd want to hire ones they've already seen in action."

"Not to be rude or anything," Emmy broke in, "but what does this have to do with anything?"

"Everything," Claire stressed. "Genesis is where this mystery starts, almost thirty five years ago. But I'll get into that part of it later. Two things that they were working on while I was at the institute were cloning and a consciousness transfer machine, usually called the CTM. They, completely by chance, decided to use me as a test subject for cloning. To this day, I'm not entirely sure why.

"About a week before the time machine explosion—the first one, I mean—they completed the first clone. However, in order to allow it to grow so rapidly, the brain had not developed correctly. It was all there, alive and vitals working, but there was no life, no consciousness in it. Some were rather pleased with this result, however. It gave them a chance to test another experiment."

"I'm beginning to see where this is going…" the professor murmured quietly.

Claire nodded. "It was three days before the accident. I know this because later I realized that three days before the accident, my scar had faded."

"Scar?" Luke asked.

"I have a small scar on my arm from where I tripped when I was younger. It had vanished, but I didn't think much of it until later.

"Anyways, it was later that I realized the night before I had been drugged. Genesis had brought me to its facility, where they swapped me with the clone. But they had used the CTM to put my consciousness into the clone, so it was still me, but not me. Understand now?"

The professor was beginning to understand. "So when you died in the accident, your consciousness snapped back to the original body."

Claire nodded, pleased. "I had to make sure that everything would line up correctly in the time line, which is why I was constantly breaking out. I didn't want anyone hurt, however, so I wrote a song."

"The Warning," Emmy realized.

"Precisely. Songs travel more quickly than anyone can imagine. Much more quickly than people give them credit for. Scotland Yard acted on my warning, thank goodness. The city was evacuated.

"Not everything was so easy, however. Once I got a little too close to Scotland for Genesis's comfort. Hershel paid the price."

"That time I was beat up—."

"My fault," she answered quietly. "I didn't get there in time to save you from unconsciousness, but I was able to prevent them from killing you. Later that day, I broke into your flat, and damaged it like you had described."

"But you weren't there when he described it!" Luke protested.

"Actually, I was close enough. Paul had hidden his machine on the roof. I overheard the conversation."

"Eavesdropper," Luke muttered.

"But it's good that she did," the professor argued.

"I suppose so," Luke conceded. "Continue."

"It turns out I wasn't the only clone they created," Claire went on. "I was basically bounced from clone to clone. The reason for this is because they were doing other experiments on my real body. Gene splicing."

"Gene splicing? Why not do it on the clones?"

"The clones were more recently made," Claire explained. "The tests wouldn't be accurate because the cells were newer than usual. They were trying to splice genes into adults. Therefore, they had to try the test on someone who was an adult."

Luke raised a hand. "I'm lost."

"For scientific reasons."

"I understand that."

"What genes were they trying to splice into you?" the professor asked.

To his surprised, Claire grimaced. "They succeeded. Make no mistake. I didn't want to believe it, but it's true. And as to what genes, this is the part that goes back three and a half decades. And it all has to do with you, Hershel."

"Me?"

"More precisely, Celia and James Layton."

"My aunt and uncle," the professor murmured.

"James Layton was a geneticist working at Genesis," Claire explained. "He was working on new mutations—something that could make someone smart, more athletic, and more understanding of people, as in reading them. He succeeded, separating the parts into three. It's called the three keys. Unfortunately, James panicked later, after discovering exactly what one could do with that kind of power, and destroyed all of his research."

"But why?" Emmy asked.

The professor had paled dramatically. "Because… he had tested it. My aunt had gotten pregnant around that time. She had triplets. He had tested the serum on his own children…"

"…And it wasn't until later he realized that his children would be locked up for testing. He also realized what the information on the mutations could lead to in the wrong hands. And Genesis was certainly the wrong hands."

"But they came to find them," the professor murmured. "But one was dead, right? A still born."

"That's what the hospital papers say," Claire agreed. "However, I don't think that's quite what happened."

"I remember…" the professor whispered, a haunted look on his face. For a moment another scene flashed before his eyes, one of a dark day, a train crash, and screams. "My cousins…"

"They weren't killed," Claire told him matter-of-factly. "Jonathan and Mystery Layton are alive and well. Mysti? Jon?"

The two, who had been waiting outside, came in the room.

Luke immediately jumped backwards from Jon. "You!" he shouted. "You're the one who kidnapped me!"

Jon blushed. "I was tricked. I'm really sorry about that."

Mystery smiled as she sat down. "You know, the resemblance between you two is shocking."

"It should be," Claire informed them. "They're identical triplets."

Now everyone was staring at her.

"What?" Jon demanded, obviously not having heard this part of the story.

"Celia and James had guessed that Genesis would try and take their children," Claire explained. "On a spur of the moment decision, on the day of their birth, they swapped children. Because, on that particular day, another Hershel Layton was being born at the same hospital a door away."

The professor now buried his face in his hands. "My mother. Her son was the one that was still born."

"If it's any consolation, I don't think either of them knew," Claire assured him. "I think it was Celia who decided to do the switch. It was easier on all involved. But because you were hidden in plain sight, they lost the intelligence gene. They could only get their hands on the physical and social genes."

"So which one of you is which?" Emmy asked.

"I'm the physical one," Mysti answered.

"I'm the social one," Jon told her seriously. Then he smiled. "Claire says I'm a card shark!"

Claire shook her head. "Yeah. You don't want to play poker with him. Ever. Since he learned the game, he has yet to lose."

"So the body you are in is the original?" the professor asked.

"Yes. My scar is back, and I found the gene changes," she explained. "I can pick up on people's emotions faster, and I've even come close to beating Jon at cards. I've also been running faster, and I noticed the color change in my eyes a few days ago."

"Color change?"

Claire leaned in closer to the professor. He noticed strange change to her eyes almost immediately. Usually a green-grey, they now had a beautiful amethyst ring around the edge that blended with the rest of the iris in a strange way. "Oh…"

"So, you're one of the Shadow Sisters?" Emmy guessed.

Claire nodded. "Like I said before, music is a powerful way to get messages out. I shouldn't be surprised none of you heard any of the songs, should I?"

"No," Luke agreed. "I don't think the professor listens to Rhonda's show."

Rhonda scowled playfully at him. "I told you to listen in," she scolded. "It would have been so much easier… Geez, next time we'll just produce a C.D. and I'll mail it to you, Emmy."

"Which one are you?" Emmy asked.

"I'm Crystal Niecht," Claire laughed. "You know, 'Niecht' is German for 'not'. A lot of people get a kick out of that."

"And I'm Pearl Alias," Mysti told them. "I have no idea what that last name means, but I think it's suppose to have the same impact as Claire's."

"Alias is a false name," the professor explained.

"I thought I explained that to you…" Claire mused.

"Nope," Mysti answered, popping the "p". "You didn't."

"Well, you know now," Rhonda told her.

"Anything else we should know?" the professor asked.

"Mystery is absolutely terrified of R-U-B-B-E-R D-U-C-K-S," Rhonda said.

"Someone is going to have to go pick up Flora," Emmy said thoughtfully, before Rhonda's sentence sunk in. "Wait, what?"

xXx

Flora was actually having a good time.

Sharon had taken her shopping, because she hadn't had many pairs of clothes. They had a good time, talking about school and girl stuff.

It was… nice. A new experience. She'd never really been able to go shopping with another girl before.

Maybe, if they all got out of this alive, she could do this with Sharon again. Or with Lilia.

Flora's thoughts moved to Lilia. The only girl who had ever given her a chance. She was nice. She really hoped that she'd seen her again. Someday.

Currently, she was carrying the bag filled with the dress she had picked out and was walking next to Sharon as they walked to Sharon's house.

"Thank you for the dress," Flora said, smiling. "And for the shopping trip. I had a lot of fun."

"No problem at all," Sharon laughed.

They walked up the drive, each wrapped up in their own thoughts.

And then they heard the sound of clashing steel, and Lando's voice cut through the air.

"Is that all you got?"

Exchanging a worried glance, the two sprinted up the rest of the driveway to where the red head was locked in a fierce fencing competition with…

…the professor.

"Professor!" Flora shouted.

The professor turned his head, the cry distracting him enough for Lando to jab his sword into his chest. "Ha! I win!"

For a moment Flora's breath caught before she realized that the sword tip was blunted, a fact made all too clear when the professor frowned and brushed the blade out of the way with his hand. "Lando, that wasn't fair. I was a little distracted by my daughter."

"Too bad. If I were really trying to kill you, that distraction would have cost you your life!"

"Well then, I guess it's a good thing that you aren't actually trying to kill me, isn't it?"

A dark haired woman appeared from around the side of the house—Rhonda. "Hi, Flora!" she shouted happily. "We got your call, and we found the professor!"

With a cry of joy, the bag slipped from Flora's hands as she sprinted towards her adopted father, throwing her arms around him. Tears pricked at her eyes as he embraced her, and she was sure that he was crying too.

But that didn't matter.

All that mattered was that she was home.

**For anyone that doesn't know, a card shark is a term used to describe someone who's very good at cards. Yeah. Knowledge of this kinda stuff just shows you what kind of family I have.**

**(No, not gamblers! Just people who play a lot of cards!)**

**Anyways, please review!**


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